Harry Potter and the World that Waits
by dellacouer
Summary: A shell shocked but triumphant Harry Potter decides to leave his world behind for another. Someone should have told him that AUs can be really, really different. HP/ X-Men crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the World that Waits. Tentative

Summary: A shell shocked but triumphant Harry Potter decides to leave his world behind for another. Someone should have told him that AUs can be really, really different. HP/ X-Men crossover.

Special Thanks to CosmosGravitation, who helped me by betaing this and bouncing ideas off of. Great source for X-men info.

-

Note: This chapter and the second chapter were originally posted by another user without my permission. I assure anyone who may have seen the other work, that I am the original writer of this, as I hope you will be able to tell by reading the third chapter I've decided to post with the original two that had already been put up. I do apprecaite the user taking down my fic once I discovered it, it was a very responsible action on their part. Still, I see little point in saving these chapters as they have already been put up once.

-

Chapter One: Old Worlds

Nobody leaves this world alive.

Muggle Proverb

Proof that, once again, wizards know better.

He should be given a medal. A big Order of Merlin First Class. Just for what he was currently having to endure. All that other stuff didn't matter. He should get a medal for sitting in this bloody-uncomfortable-ministry-issue-straight-backed-chair-from-hell. There simply wasn't a way to get comfortable in it. And he'd tried every way. He'd been shifting uncomfortably for the last three hours. Nothing worked. Voldemort really could have taken lessons from the Ministry of Magic. Give him the Cruciatus any day.

Harry rubbed his arms. He wished it had armrests at least. Still, he had to admit the auror robes were nice. He examined the material. Not wool, something softer. When Kingsley had tossed him this robe, Harry had put it on greedily. The warmth of the cloth felt almost sinful. He hadn't been warm in...almost a month. They said it had only been a month, less than a full month actually. Harry frowned, it had seemed longer. Lying in that damp cell had felt like years. Hogwarts had seemed so far away, like he was looking back on a memory from his childhood. But it had only been nineteen days.

Tearing himself away from unwanted thoughts, Harry focused on the _real_ problem. He shifted his body again...maybe if he leaned back more? It was the way the chair's back didn't curve he decided, it just didn't line up with his spine. Sigh, it was no use.

Trying to distract himself, Harry examined his current cell. No, not cell _Interrogation Room_. The auror who had shuffled him into it had called it such,

"_It's quiet in there you can have some privacy, maybe rest for a bit", _the man had said somewhat kindly.

Rest. Ha. He'd gotten used to sleeping on stone floors, but this chair...never. Hmm, maybe the floor would be comfortable? No, he had longed for a chair for a month/ nineteen days/ forever, he wasn't gonna give it up now just because it was the worst chair in the world.

The walls were gray, but not stone, they were painted and they weren't wet. Much better.

Dudley had always loved crime dramas. Harry had often wondered if Dudley considered them training videos for later in life. Dudley would sit, his pudgy face next to the telly, and yell advice to the criminal. _Hey don't say that he's bluffing. You idiot, they can't really toss you out the window. _Harry, mid-cleaning, had paused a few times. He'd often wondered how the cops chose who got to be the good cop or the bad cop. Did wizards have its equivalent? Good auror, bad auror perhaps. Maybe they did, they had certainly copied the muggle interrogation room design. The only thing missing was that two-way mirror.

-

"Why's he just sitting there?" asked a burly auror with sandy hair. He turned to the man beside him with raised eyebrows. The two men had spent the last hour gazing through a special window into the next room. To them, it looked like any window but the other side was charmed to look and feel like a stone wall.

"What would you expect him to do?" was his partner's gruff reply.

"I don't know, throw a fit, fall asleep, ask for a lollipop? Anything really."

"He was held prisoner by You-know-who for almost a month. I don't think we'll be able to do anything to intimidate him." The older auror turned to his young partner with upraised eyes. The sandy haired man merely blinked.

"It's just creepy, you know." The burly auror shivered slightly which looked rather comical. His partner didn't laugh.

"Well, I think we should go talk to him, he's rested enough."

"Uhh, sure. The boy-who-lived... geez."

"Don't get star struck son," said the veteran auror firmly. The younger auror gulped and straightened his broad shoulders. Still, the older man couldn't blame him. These young people had grown up listening to the great legend of Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. He was the closest thing to a hero their generation had ever known. Heck, the kid even impressed him. Still, it was a sad state of affairs when the world's hero had more kills tallied than most deatheaters.

-

Harry put his head down when the door opened, but his eyes looked up from the fringe of his messy hair and watched whoever was coming in. His eyes slid over the faces, he didn't know them. He'd been hoping he might be able to see Tonks or maybe Kingsley. He let his gaze settle on the younger man for a moment. He might know him, or maybe a brother or something. There was something about the big build that seemed familiar. The other auror was short and slim, he looked tiny next to other man. This smaller auror had neatly combed black hair, white streaking the temples and a slim nose. Harry subtly watched his eyes and noticed an intelligent, calculating quality to them. Harry had little doubt who would be in charge. After awhile, he'd grown used to gauging people. Knowing what to expect from them. The large blonde man was new; the older man was the one to watch out for.

Harry growled at himself in his head. You aren't a prisoner anymore. They aren't going to...They're the ministry, they can't very well inflict serious harm.

But Harry didn't trust the Ministry, hadn't since he'd learned Sirius wasn't given a trial. And he certainly wasn't going to trust it after the problems Fudge had caused. It was just like the Ministry to try locking him in Azkaban. So he decided that a little caution on his part wasn't terribly paranoid. It wasn't paranoia after all, not if they really were out to get you.

"Hello Mr. Potter, I'm Auror Cadwallader, this is Auror Proudfoot," introduced the larger man. Harry frowned softly.

"Cadwallader...do you have a brother in Hufflepuff?" asked Harry. The young auror paused, flicking an unreadable look to his partner.

"Uh, yes. Michael." Cadwallader was hesitant, which seemed odd to Harry, he'd expect the auror to know his own brother. They looked alike too.

"Chaser, right?" prodded Harry.

"Mr. Potter," interrupted Auror Proudfoot. "We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions about the circumstances under which you were found.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Found?" He coughed slightly. "I wouldn't exactly call it being found...I mean I wasn't exactly lost was I?" Harry's gaze shifted from auror to auror, Cadwallader swallowed. They had indeed known where Harry Potter had been for the last month, knowing hadn't been the problem.

"Yes, well... when the Ministry stormed the Riddle house of Little Hangleton, Mr. Potter you were the only living person."

"Yes," Harry agreed. He waited.

"How did that come to be?" questioned the older auror. Harry looked down at his palms.

"That is a very long story," Harry said. His voice was low and the two wizards before him strained to hear. When his face lifted a wrinkle creased between his eyebrows, revealing a somewhat puzzled expression.

"I don't really know." Harry's statement seemed to echo throughout the small room. The two aurors turned to each other.

"You don't know? Mr Potter that excuse isn't going to fly. You were found in a home with over twenty bodies, and the Unspeakables are telling me that the...the fragments you were located with belong to You-Know-Who. Now, the Ministry needs– "

"Oh well, that _was_ Voldemort," conceded Harry. Once again the two aurors shared a glance.

"Ah...good, now we're getting somewhere. Now, Mr. Potter what happened to...well, you know who."

"I killed him," replied Harry. The two adults gazed at the young wizard with shocked expressions. He was just a kid. It was the strangest thing in the world to have this young man calmly reveal that he had blasted a man to bits. Not just any man but the most powerful dark wizard for centuries, a man who caused Aurors to soil themselves on a regular basis. It was _creepy_, Proudfoot was starting to understand what Cadwallader had meant.

Eventually the older auror managed to grunt. He cleared his throat before asking another question.

"And, _how_ did you manage to...eh. We have it well documented that your wand was snapped when you were captured nineteen days ago..." the question was left rather open. Neither auror seemed comfortable pressing the-boy-who-lived. Personally Proudfoot was of the mind that You-Know-Who deserved whatever he got. He wouldn't loose a wink of sleep if he let Harry Potter go right now. But his supervisor had wanted answers. Proudfoot was a ministry man, through and through.

Finally Harry spoke, his voice weary. "He just blew up, can't that be enough, boom, nothing bigger than a matchbox," Harry muttered in a distracted way. He lowered his head again, looking at his lap. The aurors exchanged glances which Harry didn't see. The boy looked deep in thought. The two men seemed to reach to the same conclusion at the same time. The sent each other commiserating looks. The poor lad must be feeling guilty. He'd killed a terrible dark wizard, worst in history, and the poor boy felt guilt for taking another man's life.

They couldn't have known that Harry wasn't feeling guilty or repentant, rather he was still considering his chair. What if he pulled his legs up and sat with knees folded? Nope. Had someone jinxed this chair on purpose?

The aurors had watched Harry frown, cross his legs, frown, then uncross them. They wisely stood up and slowly backed away.

"Um...could you excuse us for a moment Mr. Potter" Proudfoot managed to say without a stutter.

Harry nodded without looking up. The aurors, once again using slow steady movements, backed out of the room. The larger man even seemed to be attempting to tip-toe backwards, resulting in a sort of awkward ballerina-like prance. Harry raised an eyebrow. He'd known Moody was a few cards short of a full deck, and understandably so, but he hadn't imagined mental instability would be a requirement for all aurors. Oh well, maybe he'd make a good auror after all.

It didn't really matter. He liked what aurors stood for, but most of them seemed to get rather caught up in the rules. That was one thing Harry had a problem with. He'd even lied to those aurors...he could have told the truth. Nothing much mattered anymore.

Well almost nothing. He certainly had to do something about this chair.

Harry's eyes shifted around, he rubbed his fingers together nervously before raising his right hand. He lifted his palm into the air, looking around once again.

He didn't know if it would work. It had been so terribly hard the first time, like he'd been breaking down a stone wall with his fists. It had hurt, a terrible ripping feeling inside of him. It came from the same place inside that had ached while the Deatheaters had been having their fun. A place somewhere deep in his chest which had ripped out his arm, harpooning through muscle and sinew.

Oh well, pressing matters to attend to, Harry thought to himself. He had to try it again, what was a little more pain? Reaching this decision, Harry's hand slid through the air, a white sparkling wash of magic in its wake.

It had been different this time.

Harry couldn't avoid the small smile that crossed his lips. His first smile in a month. He sighed in relief and utter comfort. He leaned back, relishing the plush upholstery of his newly transfigured chair. He should have tried this hours ago. Harry closed his eyes. In the space of less-than-a-month his world had fallen down around him, he'd killed Voldemort, fulfilled his retched destiny, and somehow managed to master wandless magic.

And Harry didn't care. Just another abnormality to add. Really, all he wanted to do was sleep. With a comfortable sigh, Harry Potter let himself slip into the peaceful, hazy world where grief, pain, fear and loneliness could not reach him.

-

"He says he DOESN'T KNOW! He must _KNOW_!" Commander Pennet's voice fluctuated between growls and yelling as he glared at the two aurors before him. They lowered their heads and offered no explanation. Pennet began pacing his office, stopping every once and awhile to glare at the men before him. They weren't supposed to fail him like this. He had hand picked them. Hand picked!

True, they weren't the best aurors at his disposal. Proudfoot wasn't bad. A professional. But their skill hadn't been important, he knew he could trust them. You see, Pennet wasn't stupid. He might work for stupid politicians who couldn't tell their wands from their arses, but he knew better. Boy, did he know better! He knew that Dumbledore had some secret group involved in fighting this war. He didn't like it, but he knew it. Civilians shouldn't get involved with auror business, but what could he do? They'd pop up and lend a hand, and if it saved a few of his men he wasn't about to cause a stink. But that didn't mean that he trusted them. Secret groups like that tended to like to keep stuff, well...secret. Pennet didn't like secrets. Made everything messy. Better to be up front. He was a lawman, and in his opinion secrets fostered lies, and only criminals lied.

Thus, he couldn't let someone from that secret group interog, cough, interview, Harry Potter. He needed to get the full story. If he'd had his way, it would have been himself doing the _interviewing_. But the department was still in shambles. Only a few hours ago, the wards protecting the Dark Lord's headquarters had gone down with a hissing shriek, sounding an excited alarm within the Department of Law Enforcement. Seeing their chance to rescue poor Harry, if the boy was still in one piece, they had stormed in. What they had found had surprised everyone.

The aurors had been armed to the teeth, ready for the merciless opposition expected of deatheaters. Yet when they had entered the dark, and even Pennet would admit, spooky mansion, they were met with no resistance. Indeed the first people they had found were dead. The further into the house they went, the more bodies they discovered. No one was alive. The people, some dressed in full deatheater garb and some still in their everyday robes, had seemingly dropped dead without warning. One poor fellow had been using the loo, just slid off the toilet, a copy of _Frisky Young Witches_ still in hand. It wasn't until they reached the magically converted basement that they saw any signs of violence. What might have once been an ordinary muggle cellar was now a dungeon that might have made the Spanish Inquisition envious. Rows and rows of dank rooms lined a hallway that seemed to stretch on for miles. Yet a door nearby had caught the aurors' attention. It hung limply on its hinges, as if some great force had blasted it open.

The red stains were also distracting.

Pennet had seen more than a few grisly sights in his time. But nothing had frozen his breath like that had. The blood spread out in great arching splashes, unrecognizable thicker bits floated like islands in a red sea. The walls gleamed with an odd sort of shine, nearing them he realized the rough stone had been melted smooth. But nothing in the room was destroyed. Any object in the room had merely been shoved back into the wall, as if directed by an incredible force. The only thing in the center of the room was one thin figure standing upright, observing it all with a dazed, almost surprised look on his face.

Kingsley Shaklebolt had run forward, that man's reflexes had always been quick. A young auror, Tonks was her name, had darted after him. Kingsley had already removed his own robe and was draping it around the young man's shoulders. The boy-who-lived looked up startled, as if just realizing that he was now sharing a room with a contingent of aurors. He clutched at the robes that Kingsley had wrapped around his thin frame. Indeed, the boy was terribly thin. He looked like a living skeleton amid this room, this house of death.

Pennet finally composed himself and his eyes narrowed when he say Kingsley and Tonks begin whispering to Harry Potter. He had suspected them as part to Dumbledore's group. He strode forward, expertly ignoring the squelch his boots made as they walked through the blood.

"Harry, are you okay?" he heard Tonk's murmur.

"I'll take it from here," stated Pennet firmly. Tonks had raised her head and glanced at him mutinously.

Kingsley subtly nudged her arm before responding, "Yes sir." Pennet had grabbed the boy by the shoulder, Harry had followed without resistance. Beckoning to two more trustworthy aurors, he thrust a portkey into one's hand.

"Get him back to the department, I'll have some questions for him."

-

But the questions had been pointless apparently. What was that muggle saying? If you want something done right you have to do it yourself? They had a point. Pennet bunched up his sleeves as he continued pacing. He'd get some answers out of the boy. Cadwallader and Proudfoot were obviously too enamored with the boy's fame to pressure him. Yes, he'd get his answers! This wasn't going to be some mysterious, unexplained event like You-Know-Who's defeat in 1981. This was gonna be crisp and clean, and it would save them all from having to bother with this nonsense again.

"Commander, has any information come back on why all those other wizards died?" asked Proudfoot.

"No, they haven't found anything."

"Do you reckon he might have killed them with his bare hands?" suggested Cadwallader. The large man had tilted his head in thought.

"I've heard it on good authority that he received physical training. Supposedly he's pretty good at it. Well coordinated." Proudfoot added.

"Not surprising he'd be good. Not if you ever seen him play Quidditch. Good spatial awareness." Cadwallader's voice irritated Pennet. That hero worship was what made this job harder.

"I have heard he's had some defensive training. Dumbledore provided some at Hogwarts. But I doubt anyone, and especially not a starved sixteen-year-old boy, could take on the Dark Lord's army without a wand." Pennet glared back at the two aurors who quickly looked down at their feet.

"Still, sir, it would all be self-defense wouldn't it..." Cadwallader started to argue.

Pennet's door burst open.

"Com-mmander," stammered a frazzled young recruit "There...there are more bodies turning up. Two over in the Wizemgot offices, Diagon Alley has a bushel it sounds like."

Pennet rolled his eyes.

"Send a squad to Diagon Alley; I'll take a couple men to the Wizemgot. Merlin knows the politicians are having conniptions. Contact me if we get any more calls." Pennet shook his head as he hastily assigned aurors to squads.

Harry Potter was just gonna have to wait.

-

Tonks had been assigned to a squad she had never worked with before. It wasn't that unusual these days. The Ministry had been recruiting almost anyone. Before things had gotten so hectic, she had gotten herself assigned to work with Kingsley. It was easier that way for one of them to slip off and do any Order business that might be needed. But today everything was far from normal she'd been hastily assigned on body-duty with a group of other younger aurors.

Still, even in these new squads it wasn't difficult to slip away. Her squad had been a group of men, and in her opinion all of them as alike as toy soldiers. They were tough, protective, and not terribly bright. Probably signed on to be an auror because they looked good in uniform. It had only taken a few tears and a fake fainting spell for her to convince them that she was a silly female who had been traumatized by the today's grisly sight. At first they had attempted, rather awkwardly, to comfort her but had quickly sprinted away in relief when she confessed that she needed to be alone. Apparently tracking down dead deatheaters was easier than dealing with a distraught witch. Tonks couldn't help grinning. Maybe the hat was right, she might have done well in Slytherin.

She kept her eyes open and her pace steady as she walked towards the interrogation rooms. She felt horrible that this had been her first chance to get away. Harry had been in there for over three hours. She pushed aside the guilt and concentrated on finding where he was kept. It had to be in one of the rooms in this corridor. She spotted only one closed door. Tonk's rolled her eyes. They were making this too easy.

She tapped her wand against the door and released a sigh of relief when it opened. Pennet had been terribly watchful lately, it wouldn't have surprised her if he had restricted access.

She entered the room quietly, finding Harry asleep in a large overstuffed chair. At least they gave him something nice to sit on she thought happily. She kneeled before him. He looked so exhausted. She hated to wake him.

"Harry," she had only whispered his name when he jerked awake. He seemed to relax upon seeing her.

"Lo Tonks. What you doing here?" He yawned.

"I came to check on you. How are you? Do you need anything? Water? Food? Just let me know. I'm sure Dumbledore will be here soon to straighten it all out." Tonks let her eyes rove over Harry's thin form. Someone must have provided him with clean clothes as there were no blood stains on the white shirt and draw-string trousers that he was wearing under Kingsley's robe.

"Dumbledore, why's he coming?" Harry looked up at her, a dazed look in his eyes. Tonk's didn't like what she was seeing. Harry's normally vivid eyes seemed somehow dull. The boy yawned again and leaned back into the chair. Tonks's bit her lip. Something was wrong. Oh Harry, what have those monsters done to you?

"Of course he's coming. We're not going to leave you here."

Harry shrugged at her words."Here isn't bad. The chair's nice now, here is fine," he claimed.

Tonks was becoming more and more alarmed, "Harry, you're in an interrogation cell. You're aware of that right?"

Harry eyed her for a moment, "I know."

"Doesn't that bother you? Harry, _you stopped Voldemort_, they should be giving you a parade and instead you're locked in a little gray room. Doesn't that seem off to you?"

Harry shrugged again, he looked away from Tonks. His empty, green eyes staring into space.

"It doesn't matter."

Tonks gripped his shoulders firmly, "What do you mean it doesn't matter...?" Harry's eyes slipped past her again.

"It really doesn't matt--"

Tonks didn't let him finish. Her words cut through his casual dismissal, "Now look here Harry Potter, don't tell me it doesn't matter! Tell me what's happening here, why are you acting like this?" Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed him.

Harry merely shrugged again, his eyelids weak as if he was slipping back into sleep. Tonks felt more concern tug at her. Had Harry been cursed? Was he more hurt than they had noticed? Surely the medi-wizards from earlier had scanned him for anything serious. They'd healed his broken arm...surely they must have checked for curses. A soft voice interrupted her oddly maternal panic.

"Tonks...Tonks I'm done. I did my bit. I did what I was supposed to. And it cost. I always knew it would. Ever since I first heard those words. It just cost more than I thought it would. Sirius, Cedric, all those students. My Mom and Dad. Remus. How many others?" Tonks cringed. There had been others. The nineteen days he had spent with Voldemort had been some of the bloodiest she had ever known. Harry noticed her expression and nodded.

"I've seen so many things, he showed me so many things, I don't know what to believe. Which ones were lies and what was true. Is Hogwarts still standing?"

Tonks looked up to tell him, but Harry shook his head and began speaking again.

"It doesn't really matter. It feels dead to me. I'm done. Now, I don't regret what I did. But I don't...I'm tired. I just want to be somewhere quiet. Right now, this is just fine. Tell Dumbledore the Ministry can do what it wants with me. It's done. You won't have to worry anymore." Harry closed his eyes when he finished speaking. Tonks couldn't ignore the ache in her chest. She drew her hands close to try and drive away the chill Harry's words had put in her heart. Was that really all he thought, that he was just a used weapon? She could see he did. He was lost in that dark world and there was nothing for him to grab onto.

She wished she could be the thing that held him. That she could reach out her hand and be the comfort he needed. But she wasn't. The truth was Tonks didn't really know Harry. She'd helped rescue him from his dreadful relatives once. She amused him by changing her nose over the dinner table. But Harry had never turned to her for anything, and he never would. Harry had been 'grown-up' by the time she had met him. He'd seen death before she met him. He'd faced his own death, alone, before she met him. No, it had been too late for Harry Potter to think he could turn to her.

It was moments like this that she wished her prank pulling cousin hadn't slipped away. Sirius could have helped Harry. He'd shown up in Harry's life, a little late perhaps, but still soon enough to have gotten inside that thick skin Harry now wore. Sirius would have said the right thing. He could have given Harry the hope the young man desperately needed. She could remember the way Harry's face lit up when Sirius was around.

Tonks took a breath. She hated the rules. As a result she'd been lectured to many times over her life. Rules were supposed to be important. They kept you from doing things that landed you in even more trouble. But sometimes rules caused trouble. Bureaucracy and little silly inane rules could hurt people. Leaving them huddled in large armchairs, looking at a life which seemed more than unfair.

A rule kept Harry uninformed and lost. Sirius Black's favorite phrase had been, 'rules were made to be broken'. Consequences would come.

"Harry," she said his name and it was as if he didn't even hear her. "Harry," her voice was louder. The young wizard shifted his gaze. "Harry, Sirius isn't dead. He's alive."

"What!?" The sharp timbre of Harry's voice ricocheted off the walls. Tonks flinched. Harry's eyes were now wide open a raging green so bright it made her blink.

"I...I, he's alive _somewhere_. Harry, he slipped through the veil."

Tonks hesitated. For a moment her resolve to be like Sirius, be reckless, seemed to suffer a shot of common sense. True, she could lose her job. And, it wasn't even really her secret to share. A friend from the Department of Mysteries had confided this to her. How many other consequences loomed. Perhaps a little more thought was needed. Still, Tonks watched Harry's hungry eyes and couldn't stop what she had started. She had to give him this hope, maybe if she pulled him out of this haze now she could save him. Give him the drive to leave this self imposed imprisonment.

"After Sirius fell through the veil, the Unspeakables did more research into it. See, the veil has always given off a cold magical signature. Very similar to the brief snap of magic after a wizard dies. But it isn't death Harry. It's subtly different."

"So..." Harry rubbed his temple trying to figure out what Tonks was saying. If it wasn't death, what was it?

"It's a gateway to other worlds Harry. Alternate dimensions. A passageway. Imagine. Sirius is alive somewhere. A world like ours but different. Maybe he's really happy, playing pranks with your dad. Not dead, not gone. Still living his life, just somewhere else." Tonks watched as the information sunk in. Harry's lips quirked into somewhat of a smile.

"So, he's okay...can they bring him back?" Harry's voice was starting to sound more like him, and Tonks gulped afraid to tell him the truth. But she wouldn't lie.

"No, my friend who told me this, he said that there are an infinite number of worlds. He could be anywhere, they wouldn't know where to look." Tonks waited for Harry's reaction.

Harry shoulders had sagged slightly, but his eyes still flickered with life. "But he's alive." Tonks couldn't avoid the bright grin on her face.

"Yep, he's alive. Probably still causing trouble."

"That's nice to know." Harry nodded. His eyes grew far off again, but they weren't dead, they weren't as lost. Tonks felt her heart beat happily, the joy of knowing she might have helped Harry made her want leap into the air.

And, she did leap, but in surprise not joy.

The interrogation door swung open. Two aurors that Tonks knew shuffled in. The stopped when they spotted her.

"Auror Tonks what are you doing here?" asked the older man, Proudfoot was his name Tonks remembered.

Tonks attempted to smile charmingly. She had the feeling it didn't turn out well.

"Ummm..." she stuttered. Matthew Cadwallader was fighting a grin. Tonks had been a year behind him in Hogwarts.

"Were you assigned to this case?" demanded Proudfoot.

"Not exactly," conceded Tonks.

"This is a violation of your orders Auror Tonks, and you are in an unauthorized area. Who is your supervisor?" Proudfoot didn't really seem mad, just annoyed.

"Kinglsey Shaklebolt," she replied, faking a dour expression.

"Well come on," Proudfoot indicated the door.

"Bye Harry," she said as she passed him.

"Bye Tonks, sorry about this." Tonks turned around and sent him a glare when she noticed the playful smile on his face.

"You think this is funny, wait till you're an Auror."

"Auror Tonks," barked Proudfoot. Tonks rolled her eyes. Making her shoulders more erect she left the room, Proudfoot right behind her.

The older Auror quickly matched her pace. "What do you think you were doing, Pennet's already in a strop about this nonsense."

"Oh, Pennet can go suck a duck."

"Suck a— what?" Proudfoot looked at her with confused and incredulous eyes. She didn't explain and the man coughed trying to hide what could only be called a giggle.

"Come on Proudfoot, you can't think Harry should be locked up in there. He should be at St. Mungos. The kid was held by Voldemort for a month!" Tonks didn't bother lowering her voice as they returned to the main area of the Department of Law Enforcement. Proudfoot had flinched at the name but otherwise remained calm. He lifted a hand to his forehead, running his fingers through the white hair at his temples.

"I know, it's bad business Tonks. Forget Mungos I was expecting we'd be calling the undertaker. You know we all were. _Stay for a night, Stay for life_." Tonks felt a shiver run down her spine as Proudfoot repeated the little rhyme that had been created during the first Dark War. It had been created by the aurors to describe someone's chances if they were captured by the Dark Lord and his followers. If you escaped in the first few hours, you stood a chance. If you were gone for a day, they'd be lucky to find a body.

The eerie little rhyme had been humming in Tonks's head ever since Harry was taken. Both the Order and the Ministry had done all they could to reclaim him, but it had been impossible to send anyone into Little Hangleton. The four attempts had been horrific failures. Not long after Sirius had died, Voldemort had come out into the open. Reclaiming many of his former allies. He'd also established a kingdom of sorts. The desolate Riddle house had become his base, his influence and control spilling out around it, infecting the area like a plague. No one seemed prepared to go near it.

The Order had rallied together for a few desperate attempts at rescue. Remus Lupin, the last of the marauders had been one such attempt. Dumbledore had tried to talk him out of it, but the stubborn werewolf acted on his own. He'd gotten the closest of all of them, but was still captured and killed before he could enter the house itself.

Tonks sighed. She hoped that the knowledge that Sirius Black was alive would be enough to counterbalance all the misery Harry had known in this world.

"Shaklebolt," Proudfoot called. The dark skinned auror raised his head and nodded to the other man. "Caught Auror Tonks trying to get Harry Potter's autograph," teased Proudfoot.

Tonks opened her mouth in a wide O. "I was no--" Kingsley shot her a warning glare. She frowned and snorted in annoyance. "Fine."

Proudfoot turned and left with a backwards wave, chuckling to himself as he went. Kingsley raised his eyebrows at the young auror. Tonks tried to lean against the cubicles in a casual way.

Kingsley looked down before stepping closer to the witch, his voice was a low murmur, "Tonks, we're on thin ice as it is. Best not give Pennet a reason to sack you." The older auror's tone made Tonks squirm.

She sighed and leaned her head back. "I won't, I just feel terrible knowing Harry is being treated like a prisoner. Why isn't Dumbledore here yet?" Tonks ran hand through her hair, currently spiky black, before turning to Kingsley who was frowning.

"I'm not certain. I imagine he's doing what everyone is trying to do, figure out how to proceed from here. Deatheaters all over England and Europe dropped dead. Voldemort is gone. All in just a few hours time. It's quite a change from the downward spiral we were dealing with yesterday. Harry's safe for the moment, and the conditions, while not ideal, are better than he has endured for the last month. Let's just sit tight and see how the wind changes."

Tonks bit her lip. Kingsley was being sensible. He was probably right too. But it wasn't what she wanted to hear at the moment.

-

previously

-

Cadwallader entered the room smiling. He had prevented himself from laughing in Tonks's face, she could be a vindictive witch when she wanted to be. He could still recall a terrible prank she had pulled in her first year on Wallaby Winters after he had teased her about her real first name. No doubt the genes she had inherited from the Black family were hard at work in her. But, after Proudfoot had lead her out, Cadwallader had shut the door and given in to the little chuckle that had been threatening to come out.

"That's not particularly nice," Harry commented. The boy seemed more 'normal' at the moment and it put Cadwallader at ease.

"Oh it's all in fun. Still I appreciate if you wouldn't mention it to her." Cadwallader stood before his own chair, looking across at Harry. He noticed that the official Ministry chair had been transfigured into a very comfortable plush recliner. Tonks's doing he reckoned. She was very nice deep down; trust her to think of Harry Potter's comfort.

"Like it?" Harry asked noticing the auror's gaze.

"Nice bit of transfiguration. Never my area truth be told, always better at Defense. I think I drove McGonagall spar. Course Tonks was...Ravenclaw? I think, bound to be better. Looks comfy." Cadwallader went to sit in his own uncomfortable chair only to sink into the softness of an identical plush recliner. His eyes jerked open, examining the chair he was sitting in. It had been of the standard issue only a moment ago...how?

"It will be nice to take a nap in," stated Harry in a friendly way.

"What?" Cadwallader's head swivelled around confused. Yet his eyes did begin to grow heavy. An oddly unaccountable urge to sleep was swiftly overwhelming him. He knew the effects of a sleeping spell well. But...How? Cadwallader's last thought before drifting into sleep was– but he didn't have a wand...

Harry rose to his feet, noting that the auror seemed to be snoring softly. The young wizard smiled and decided to complete the picture by conjuring a blanket to cover him with. He marveled at how easily the magic came. It felt like it was bouncing around in his skin. He hadn't even needed to utter the spells, and he had never been an expert at silent magic.

Whatever had happened to him while in Voldemort's clutches had certainly paid off. Leaving the auror behind, Harry quickly and quietly left his Ministry cell behind. Leaving the room he whispered a spell and the uncomfortable trickle of having a cold egg broken on your skull seeped down his hair. None of the aurors, busy at work, even noticed a disillusioned sixteen year old wizard move past them, enter the lift, and no one noticed that the lift left level two and traveled to level nine, which housed only one department. The Department of Mysteries.

For being a Department of Mysteries, Harry Potter knew it rather well. Much better than any young wizard was supposed to know it. He entered almost on auto-pilot, waiting politely as the room spun. Choosing a door at random before shutting it, letting the room spin again, choosing a door and shutting it, spin, choose, spin. Harry was of a mind that this was a rather silly way to guard a room, hadn't the wizarding world ever heard of laser beams or acid pits which would open to swallow people alive. Toxic gas? Harry decided that a great deal could be learned from watching movies, and that perhaps the wizarding world should rent some. He'd have suggested it, but he didn't currently have the time and really it was their own fault for being a tad backwards.

Finally Harry found the door he was looking for. A raised dais stood before him, a somewhat insignificant veil rustling in wind that didn't exist. He stepped inside and the door slid closed behind him. He paused for a moment, listening to an odd bunch of whispering voices. He took a few steps upward, wondering about the odd noise. When Sirius had first disappeared, Luna had comforted him by saying that the voices were those of people who had passed on, died. And he had been comforted, he should have known not to have believed Luna, she had also advised him about nargles after all. So, what were these voices? Were they the people from another world, their words echoing into his?

Harry paused watching the seemingly weightless fabric. What Tonks had said sounded pretty good. A different world, one that didn't hold the painful memories this one did. A place where his parents may still be alive, his friends... But that didn't matter, not really. Harry was ready to shed this world like an old winter coat. Over the last year, the last month, he'd let go of so many things.

They say that when you are tortured you can break. Harry had always heard that word bandied about in Dudley's war movies. In an odd way, in the first hours locked in the dark, he'd begun to feel like one of those characters and he began wondering when he was going to break. But people aren't made of china. There were many little moments that took pieces from him. It wasn't breaking, it was losing bit by bit. His resolve was being eaten away. At first he'd wanted to escape to see his few remaining friends again, apologize to them for this terrible year. Then as time went on he let that drop away. It hurt too much to know he was failing them. For a short while he'd hung on because the prophecy had to be fulfilled and he didn't want to leave the world in Voldemort hands. Then for awhile he had wanted to live just for himself, because he wasn't ready to die yet. But after another painful evening he'd even tossed that way. This world had been ripped from him, every little bit. He had no desire to be lifted on shoulders and paraded about like a champion. Maybe in some sick way this leap was just another form of suicide, because either way, Harry was done with this world. He wanted peace and anonymity. He'd never get that here.

Still, he stood at the edge for a moment. Perhaps his old nightmares still haunted him, this veil had been symbolic for so long.

Harry Potter took a step.

-

"He's Gone!" Auror Proudfoot yelled to the Auror Office. Those Aurors still there, and not collecting fallen deatheaters, turned to look upon him with expressions of confusion. Auror Proudfoot, usually rather collected, seemed downright flustered.

"Who's gone?" asked one balding man, his head popping out from his cubical as if he were a mole peering from his hole.

"Harry Potter!" Proudfoot yelled again. This garnered more attention as every Auror now jumped to their feet, surrounding poor Auror Proudfoot who was far from calm at the moment.

"How'd he get out?!"

"He can't have, are you sure you went in the right room!"

"Who might have taken him now?"

"He didn't have a wand!"

These statements were all shouted at the same time. Auror Proudfoot wasn't quite sure who to answer first. So, he shouted back even louder, explaining the napping Cadwallader, who he hadn't been able to rouse, and the empty room. Soon the other aurors turned and followed Proudfoot back to the interrogation room to see for themselves. Leaving only two aurors behind, each exchanging glances.

"Dumbledore will have to know about this. You don't think he escaped do you...I don't see how he could have..." Kingsley turned to the smaller witch. His chocolate eyes were tired and he rubbed his forehead, what else could go wrong now?

Tonks shook her head in a dazed manner. "No, he seemed fine. Said he wasn't even upset about staying in the interrogation room," Tonks suddenly blanched. "He wouldn't," she whispered.

"Tonks!" Kingsley called in alarm as the woman jumped to her feet and ran from the room.

"I just have to check something," she called over her shoulder before leaving a stunned Shaklebolt behind.

-

Tonks raced to the lift, pushing the number nine button a total of five times. She drummed her fingers against her thigh impatiently. He wouldn't. No, he wouldn't. It didn't even bear checking really. Harry would never do something so reckless. Still...

Tonks jerked from her thoughts when the lift door opened. She felt somewhat startled to see the empty stone corridor, a dark door staring at her. She fumbled with the knob a little guilty. Really she wasn't supposed to be here, and had only ventured past this door once in her life. When Sirius fell. She'd been a little preoccupied at the time, and hadn't had time to pay attention to the little details. Dumbledore had lead the charge after all; the Hogwarts headmaster seemed surprisingly well informed about this particular department.

Still, there was no time loose. With quick steps she hurried down a corridor which opened into a round room. She opened a door hesitantly, closing it when it didn't yield what she wanted. Tonks closed her eyes in frustration as the room spun.

A voice intruded as she cursed under her breath, "About time someone showed up, I paged you aurors five minutes ago. I understand it's a little hectic but protocol...oh hello Tonks."

The young metamorphamagi spun around. "Max? What are you doing sounding so priggish?"

The equally young unspeakable shrugged embarrassedly. "Got left in charge with all the madness going on. Everyone got called out to investigate that Riddle house. Is it true what they are saying?" Tonks nodded her head distractedly.

"Look Maxy old boy, I need to get to the veil room." Tonks said quickly.

Maxwell Tallow rolled his eyes at her nickname. "Does this have anything to do with the warning I sounded out," he speculated. Tonks wanted to grind her teeth. Just like a bloody Ravenclaw, couldn't just point out the way, had to figure things out first. Max was a year ahead of her in Hogwarts and they'd remained friends as both now worked for the Ministry.

"Maxy, just point out the door," growled Tonks.

The dark-haired man shook his head. "Fine, I don't even think I want to know. That one," Max lifted his hand, pointing to a door on her left as he shook his head.

Tonks seized the door roughly, taking a deep breath as she peered inside.

The room was empty.

Tonks grabbed her forehead nervously. He couldn't have.

Max stood behind her, looking in and seeing nothing amiss. "This did have something to do with the intruder a minute ago. The alarms went off but I couldn't see anyone. Tonks...what happened?"

Tonks wasn't paying much attention as she slumped to the floor. Staring vacantly at the veil, tears slipping from he eyes, she told her good friend Max everything that had happened.

-

Harry Potter was flung forward at an alarming rate. His glasses fell from his face as he landed on his knees. His hands rested firmly on the ground supporting him from being stomach-down on a rather dirty floor. Harry fumbled for his glasses, cringing as he slid aside Merlin only knew what, before managing to snag them and put them back on his face, shakily standing up. Thankfully they didn't seem broken, just bent. He looked around him and was very confused. Had he been thinking a little more clearly he might have expected this confusion. After all, he had just slid sideways through time, arriving in a completely different dimension. But then, a level-headed person likely wouldn't have made this unorthodox trip. Somewhere in Harry's rather jumbled mind he had imagined stepping into the veil and stepping out through another. Perhaps giving some bookish unspeakable a shock. He hadn't expected to land where he had.

Harry looked down. Harry looked up. He was in a tube station.

Indeed, Harry Potter was standing on the tracks of a rather busy looking tube station, muggles moved about a little above him. He watched them for a moment, seeing business men in suits yelling into cell phones, Tourists snapping cameras, and a few hassled mothers alternating between fumbling with groceries and yelling at their children. Everyone was so busy it took them all awhile to notice the teenager in a somewhat dirty blue robe who was peering up at them from bent eyeglasses. The first people who noticed him could only stare for a moment, their faces twisted in an expression of confusion. The only one more confused was the teenager on the tracks.

"OH!" One of the mothers said, being the first to snap out of the surprise. "Help, someone has fallen on the tracks!" The woman yelled. Other people who had been reading newspapers, waiting for their own trains, came to watch. One rather industrious man had picked up an emergency phone and was rapidly talking to someone. Harry himself wasn't nearly as concerned as the people on station seemed to be. There was bound to be a ladder or something nearby. In the meantime he dusted himself off a bit. He only became concerned when a loud yell ripped through the air. Harry looked up suddenly.

"The train's coming!" The same woman yelled. She seemed to be having a great time narrating the event. Harry looked and indeed there was a light streaming toward him from the darkness of the tunnel.

Harry snapped out of whatever shock had been latching onto him. He frantically looked for a ladder. There had to be one.

"Come on lad," some of the men on platform shouted to him. The men reached out their arms in his direction, but Harry had never been particularly tall. His eyes barely skimmed the edge of the platform. He'd never manage to pull himself up, not after the month he'd had, Voldemort was not a caring captor. He looked again for the ladder. He turned his head and the light seemed to be incredibly closer, now accompanied by a loud rushing noise. Harry cursed under his breath. Abandoning his idea of finding a ladder, Harry grasped the hand of a rather large blonde man. The man was leaning forward in an effort to grasp Harry's hand. The man tugged, Harry maneuvered his feet to scale the side.

This all would have worked quite well, except that not everyone had noticed that there was a person about to be flattened under the rails. A large group of elderly tourists, intent of visiting Westminister, had just realized that they were on the wrong platform. They hurried past. One old man, not really looking where he was going, absently banged Harry's helper with a cane. The blonde man, already leaning forward, his feet on the edge, was startled by the sudden rap on the head. Harry's position, ideal for climbing out, was not ideal for a man who suddenly found himself falling forward. Both Harry and the blonde man landed in a tangle about a foot from the tracks.

"Christ," the blonde man said. Harry didn't need to turn to know the train was barreling down upon them. The rails were trembling behind him, making the ground beneath his feet shake. The two men glanced at each other for a moment, the blonde man obviously certain that they were both done for.

"Statute of secrecy be damned," Harry declared quietly. Grabbing the blonde man around the waist, Harry wandlessly cast a levitation charm. He absently kicked off with his feet, speeding up the direction of the spell slightly. With the levitating charm doing all the work, Harry and his attempted rescuer easily leaped the six feet to safety.

Harry stood wearily. The blonde man had not even attempted to stand, choosing to drop bonelessly to his knees.

"Thank you God," the man babbled in relief.

The man's quiet prayer and the train rushing by were the only sound heard in the tube station for a moment. But then with the train gone the man had stopped thanking God for his survival and turned to view the boy who had miraculously "leaped" them both to safety. Eyes were wide, mouths open. Harry thought he caught looks of fear in some eyes. He was really too tired to deal with all this. Would the Ministry arrive soon to wipe memories and put things to right?

Then a voice erupted, making the previously silent tube station recoil.

"MUTANT!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: New World, Same Place

-

Harry Potter was in a jail cell. Again.

Through if he had to say, this was the best one yet. Voldemort kept his prisoners contained in a small dark stone room, water clinging to the walls. No chair, no bed, and food had only been provided when deatheaters remembered. Harry had long come to the conclusion that deatheaters were dumber than a post, because they never seemed to remember. The Ministry kept its "witnesses" in small gray rooms. There _was_ a chair, a very uncomfortable one if he remembered, and although Harry hadn't really been there long enough for them to provide food, Tonks had offered, which was a vast improvement. The City of London Mutant Affairs Office on the other hand kept their "detainees" in a light gray room. It was well lit, provided a chair _and_ a bed. Both of which weren't that bad. Meals were regular, 6:00 a.m. breakfast, 12:00 p.m. lunch, 6:00 p.m. supper. They never wavered, and the food, somewhat like the kind provided on airplanes, was pretty good to Harry's way of thinking. All meals provided the full nutrients, which was quite a step up. He even had his own toilet, an extremely lucky find if Harry knew prison cells. Indeed if it weren't for the men in lab coats, accompanied by men with rather large guns, Harry might have been tempted to settle in and call this new place home.

Yes, the men in lab coats were annoying. They'd come in, look at him for awhile, make a note in a chart, frown, and then leave. One had tried to take a blood sample. Harry had quashed that idea, a simple impenetrable charm had made it impossible for them to piece his skin. The doctor (Harry assumed he was a doctor) had eventually bent his needle attempting it, then gave Harry another look. He had left somewhat excitedly.

However if it weren't for the doctors, he might not have learned much about this strange new world he had landed in.

Moments after Harry had magicked himself to safety, the Underground's security group had arrived, followed by a group of police. As usual they had shown up too late to rescue the person trapped in the tunnel, but they were in time to slap some cuffs on him when the well-meaning observers told them what had occurred.

Harry hadn't been particularly worried as these events played out. He had no idea what a mutant was (outside of science fiction anyway) but with his wandless magic he'd have no trouble escaping the muggle police. More out of curiosity than anything, Harry had accompanied the policemen into their car and eventually downtown to a little out-of-way courtroom. There, a rather severe looking magistrate had glared down at Harry and pronounced him guilty of breaking the newly passed City of London Mutant Act. Harry decided he was more impressed than upset, the legal system was amazingly swift in this world.

"You're the first to break the new laws boy, hope you're proud of your little jaunt," the bewigged man had said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. He pounded his gavel. "Detained until further notice," he announced, his voice booming over the empty courtroom. Turning to Harry again the man had smiled in a way reminiscent of Vernon Dursely. "You'll even be the first to try out the city's new mutant-proof facility. That should teach you."

Harry had merely blinked in response. There was that word "Mutant" again. Mutant Act. Mutant-proof. The magistrate had seemed a little disappointed in Harry's reaction. The large man had leaned over in his black robe and whispered something to a man beside him who in turn whispered to the officers at Harry's side. Harry wondered why they bothered as he heard the question quite clearly.

"Are you sure he's a mutant?" the weedy assistant had asked.

"Without doubt, whole tube platform witnessed it," affirmed the policemen, his voice steady.

"Very well, march him out," the magistrate ordered, again his voice booming through the empty room.

"Don't try anything funny," one of the men grunted as they walked him out. "Gerry there has enough sedative in that gun to drop a raging rhinoceros."

The other man, Gerry, Harry assumed, grinned fiendishly and lifted a rather large orange colored pistol to his chest. He flashed it in Harry's direction in what was probably a menacing manner. Harry had a hard time trying not to laugh as he imagined the rather overweight Gerry stalking through the African wilderness, dressed in khaki, bravely tranquilizing raging rhinoceroses.

Lost amid this image, Harry was then tugged by his shoulder and placed in a gray van. A partition, which seemed to be made of lead and reinforced plexiglass, separated him from the driver. There were no windows except for a small hole in the partition, which Gerry shut as soon as the van's motor started. Harry didn't mind the semi-darkness and quickly dozed off.

Wherever this 'City of London Mutant-Proof Facility' was, it wasn't in London. Even though Harry had fallen asleep, it still took them awhile to reach their destination. When the van arrived Harry had been about to slip into dreamland again.

The doors opened, allowing the sunlight to blind Harry. Rough hands reached out and grabbed him, dragging him from the van. Harry was really rather glad that people seemed intent on leading him everywhere as he doubted he could have managed under his own power. With somewhat slitted, tired eyes, Harry had been lead through a maze of corridors, finally deposited in the small gray room he now _almost_ called home. Harry had welcomed the bed they flung him on and had finally fallen into a deep restful sleep. Whatever his problems were, they would no doubt be sorted out later.

Harry had been allowed to sleep for as long as he wanted. And, as the bed was so nice, Harry did just that. When he finally did wake up, a little before noon judging by the now memorized feeding schedule, a man in a white coat, accompanied by a man with a big gun, entered and dropped a few items before Harry.

"Change into those," the man in the white coat said. The pair quickly left and Harry looked at the things that had been tossed in his direction. They were a gray shirt and a pair of gray drawstring pants, each wrapped individually in plastic. Gazing at his own soiled garments, Harry eagerly changed into the clean clothes.

Harry Potter was starting to slowly regain his senses at this point. The full night's sleep had knocked some of the dazedness out of him. He had looked around for the first time. Perhaps a little confused that the ministry hadn't discovered all this yet. Now that he had clean clothes, he was considering apparating there and figuring things out, but then lunch had come.

Harry hadn't had an actual full meal since before he'd been snatched by Voldemort. The sight of some sort of processed meat patty, surrounded by vegetable medley made his mouth water. Deciding to put his plans of escape off for the moment, Harry had settled down and tucked into the fine meal. The man with the gun had kept the weapon trained on Harry as another man, not a white coat but dressed similar, rushed in, grabbed Harry's old clothes and hurried out. Harry hadn't minded. There had been nothing there that was his, and Kingsley wouldn't be getting his robe back anyway. Instead he had enjoyed his meal, relishing the feeling of a stomach that was full.

Of course he'd felt positively sick later. He should have known it wasn't healthy to eat so much after not eating for so long. But it was a good sickness. And, when dinner came and filled up again, it was an even better kind of sickness.

But now that he was fed and watered, as Dumbledore had liked to say, Harry had made his plans for escape. He'd apparate to Hogwarts and find this world's Dumbledore, who might be able to point him in the direction of his family. Maybe he'd be having breakfast in Godric's Hollow next morning.

Of course Harry didn't have breakfast in Godric's Hollow. His attempt at apparition had been a complete failure. As soon as he had tried to leave the room, it was if a jolt of electricity hit him, sending him reeling and leaving him in his comfortable little prison cell.

Harry had looked around startled, not expecting that. He also hadn't expected the door to suddenly bust open. In entered "the man with gun" and two doctors this time. Each doctor seemed to eye him speculatively, as if waiting for him to preform some trick. Harry stared back at them. They stared back at him. Harry was beginning to wonder what they were looking for, when he remembered that he could easily find out.

Locking eyes with one of the two doctors Harry preformed rudimentary Legillimancy on the man. The mental arts had never been Harry's forte, but he was skilled enough to quietly enter the mind of a muggle who had no mental protections in place.

'Unusual subject, unnerving really.' the man had said mentally. Harry had been a little offended at that. 'Subject must have attempted some form of telaportation, otherwise the electrical alarms wouldn't have sounded. Unlucky bugger, that must of hurt. He'd never be able to tell that on the other side of these walls in an electrical current with 75 volts.'

While the man's surface thoughts had been interesting. Harry needed other answers. Mutant? He casually asked the mind, waiting for a reaction to the word. The emotion that the word evoked was a mixture of fascination and disgust. Harry tried to keep still as the man's mind assaulted him with images related to the word mutant. The doctor as a boy hearing something on the news, as a teenager reading an article about identified mutant abilities, studying medical journals in university. Curiosity at how the human body could make such power.

Power...mutants had power. Not magical. But it was if each possessed their own magical skill. The doctor's mind was fertile with an idea about what kinds of powers existed. Harry swallowed, staggered by such a development, how this could be possible? The man's mind provided him with a complicated answer, involving DNA helixes and chromosome sequences. Harry shook his head. He hadn't been to proper muggle school since he was eleven, he barely knew what DNA was.

Then the two doctors had left. The man with the gun remained for a moment, waiting for the doctors to leave before following in them out. In that minute Harry mentally asked ' man with gun' what he thought mutants were.

'Freaks' came the all too prompt reply. As everyone left Harry stared down at his lap.

In that moment, for the first time while captured by the muggles, Harry felt a slight twitch of fear. He couldn't apparate, he was seemingly trapped in a room, studied like a lab rat, and considered some sort of DNA mutation. All considered it didn't sound promising for his future. He was also starting to think that the Ministry wasn't coming to collect him for using magic in front of muggles. If these mutants did exist then, it must make it very difficult for the Ministry to track which oddity was magic and which was mutation. Harry hadn't used a wand, so they would have no way of knowing. It seemed he was on his own again.

Harry looked around curiously for a moment. He cast a simple colour switching spell on his uniform. The material changed from dour gray to a more festive lime green in a second. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Changing the uniform back to it's original shade, Harry lay back down on the bed, a smile on his face. While their mutant-proofing methods had put a kybosh on his apparating skills, it seemed his magic was still functioning as normal.

They wouldn't be able to hold him here for long if he wanted to leave. A stunner on the man with the gun, followed by another for the doctors, an invisibility or disillusionment charm, and he'd slip out the way he came in. However, in the meantime, this might be the perfect opportunity to find out more about the world he found himself in. He couldn't help but wonder why this world seemed to be experiencing such a violent leap of evolution, while his own was not. The only evolving he'd heard of back home involved people being born without their wisdom teeth. Why here? What was different? Had the veil shoved him into the future as well as into a different world? No, everything else had seemed the same. No hover cars, his food hadn't been in pill form (which he was grateful for) and there were no laser guns just the actual bullet kind of guns. Harry refused to believe he had landed in the future without those devices in evidence.

So, Harry Potter settled back in his bed, and did something for the first time in his life. He embraced those inner-slytherin traits which the sorting hat had uncovered. He'd play the part of a mutant for a bit. Eat the nice hand delivered food, enjoy the room they provided, and rummage through his captors minds, finding out more about this world he had landed himself in.

Now there was nothing left to do but wait for breakfast.

-

This lead Harry to the present. He had learned quite a lot over the last few days.

He'd learned about this Mutant Act he'd apparently broken. London had been among many cities across England and the world which had banned mutants. It was all very polite of course, citing that the decision was made for mutant safety. The City basically claimed that everyone in London hated mutants, and the police couldn't be bothered to protect them. Hence, wouldn't they be much safer outside the city, and wouldn't it be much better for everyone if they left? In fact, it seemed muggle/mutant violence hadn't been that severe before the law had been passed. Rather the town had practiced a polite form of discrimination, using financial measures to pressure mutants out of towns and neighborhoods. However once The Mutant Act was passed the city made prejudice and discrimination public policy.

Harry really had been lucky. He'd been arrested on a Tuesday morning. The "mutant court" was only open alternating Tuesdays and Thursdays, 9-5. Otherwise he'd likely have been tossed into the general prison population for a few days...which wasn't too mutant friendly by the sound of it. Harry had the distinct impression that city officials encouraged this.

Yes Harry had been lucky, on other counts as well. It seemed that the London Mutant-proof Facility he had been told about wasn't run by the city of London at all. Rather, the building and the doctors all belonged to the military. This building itself was also not intended to hold mutants for long term. It was actually supposed to be used as a staging area. Doing some medical processing before sending the "detainees" to larger facility up North. But when Harry had come in his skeletal thinness, weariness, and a few noticeable scars, had concerned the doctors. So much so, they worried that Harry might not make the transfer to the other facility. Harry had been rather pleased that his current captors wanted him alive and relatively healthy, even if their assessment of his health hadn't been flattering, but he would have been even more pleased if he hadn't learned that the larger facility had more nefarious purposes. What those exact purposes were, no one in this facility knew, but the doctors had rather gruesome imaginations.

Harry had learned all this from doctors and orderlies as they came in watched him, or delivered his food. Of course he hadn't been able to learn quite as much as he'd like. It seemed that many of the doctors didn't like their job very much. Thus, when they were supposed be studying him, more often than not they were thinking about a football game they had money on, Karen (a apparently very attractive tech), or worrying about how they were 'going to afford braces for Tom as well'. Harry wasn't quite good enough at mental magic to quietly go in and find all the answers he wanted. When he concentrated he could read surface thoughts relatively well, and he could sometimes pose a question and get a response , that is if the person was inclined to answer the curious voices in their head. But Harry didn't dare try and dig deeper. He had learned from one doctor that some mutants had the ability to access people's minds. Thankfully the doctors didn't think his mutation included that skill, but Harry knew they had plenty of tranquilizers handy if they felt the least bit threatened. And being doped would limit any escape plans.

However perhaps the most interesting information didn't come from the doctors, but rather from the men with the guns. On a whole they didn't tend to think much, this seemed to be a job for military personnel who couldn't be trusted with anything more difficult than point and shoot. But, from time to time they would stand there and mentally complain about how the added guard duties had really cut in on their sleep or social lives. They also complained that it seemed pointless to be on high alert when there was only one of these 'freaks' in the whole building. Harry had asked why they needed the additional paroles and had been graced with rather interesting images.

It seemed that not all mutants were taking this treatment lying down. A group of "terrorists" had broken into a German facility, freeing the mutants inside. It was said that there had been another attempt on the London Jails over the weekend, in an effort to free any mutants there. These guards had conjured rather terrifying images of what these terrorist mutants must look like. Often the creatures seemed to resemble werewolves or dementors to Harry's mind. Harry had chuckled at this, unnerving both the guard and the doctor staring at him. They had left rather quickly.

However after three days had passed, Harry wasn't learning anything new and he felt stronger then he had in long time. The aurors had fixed any major problems, but the full meals and sleep had gone a long way in repairing the damage done while imprisoned by Voldemort. Harry found himself thankful for his captor's attention.

This attitude had both startled and worried Harry somewhat. It wasn't really normal behavior to enjoy your imprisonment, perhaps one to many cruciatus curses had sent him round the bend. Still he'd once heard that if you were sane enough to worry that you were insane, then you weren't that bad off to begin with. He hoped this was true.

Of course Harry's acceptance of the facility was shattered when he happened to meet another doctor. This man was new. He was short with a thin build, bald except for a few tufts of wispy hair which he had arranged in an attempt at a comb over. The attempt failed. Still, the man's eyes had been what warned Harry. They were cold. Harry had met enough sadistic pricks in his short life to know that the really nasty ones had cold eyes. Harry enjoyed scrupulously looking into the man's mind...but he had been forced to gag at what he found there. Harry quickly learned that this man was from the main facility, he'd come to see if Harry was finally ready for transfer. He was rather restless about the long wait and had wanted to see what the big deal was about.

The doctor evaluated Harry as silently as the other doctors had, but his mind was full of comment.

'Wishy washy doctors. He seems perfectly fine for transfer, what do they think, he is walking there? Hmm, Advanced muscle work and strength, easily jumped six feet carrying another man twice his weight. How illusive this power is. Number 232 had an advanced muscular system but it was physically obvious, bulging size. This one is small, a useful way to hide the power...much more effective.'

The doctor frowned at the chart.

'He hasn't demonstrated this while in captivity. Oh well it hardly matters. Impenetrable skin? Hmm...also very useful. But tricky, very tricky. Perhaps an anamantium blade or diamond headed drill will be effective. If not, many mutations are less active after death. Take some x-rays, allow the body to decompose slightly and it shouldn't be difficult to open it up and see how it works. Very curious. He can be the last. The military should be happy with the mutations gathered. Now if only Stilman comes through with his line of research. Genetically effective soldiers, snort, utilizing various mutations.' the man mentally scoffed. 'If he can pull that off he'd deserve the Nobel prize, not that anyone can know what he did.'

Harry bit his cheek trying to not display the disgust he felt. This man was as bad as any deatheater. His hands twisted, wanting to curse the man with a particularly embarrassing hex. Harry frowned as the man continued to mentally mutter about Stilman and his impractical research methods, adding that it wouldn't be his fault if this whole project was a failure. He'd done his part gathering mutations and determining how they influenced the body. Blah, blah, blah.

The man eventually left, his mind telling Harry that they'd be moving him tomorrow. Giving in to temptation, Harry silently cast a spell (learned from the Weasley twins) just before the door closed. It hit the man's back and no one was the wiser. While not a punishment to fit the crime, Harry was pleased that the man would be suffering from uncontrollable flatulence for the next six months. It was bound to make him unpopular. Although, Harry realized too late, he probably wasn't popular to begin with.

Thus, today was the day. Armed with his knowledge about mutants, Harry felt confidant that he could avoid any problems. Magic, as opposed to mutation was far more versatile, he should have no trouble now that he knew what to avoid. Really it wasn't much different than hiding your magical abilities in the muggle world. He felt a small amount of guilt that he couldn't help those mutants in that other facility, they didn't deserve that treatment. But despite being a somewhat formidable wizard, Harry was only one man. He had no idea where this other facility was, and he wasn't about to ruin his own escape now that he had arrived in a new world.

Harry frowned. He didn't like that attitude. Maybe once he'd settled somewhat, found his family, he'd be able to lend a hand. He hadn't heard anything about the magical world yet. But, these men where muggles and obviously busy dealing with this 'next stage of evolution' they probably had never even noticed the magical community living under their feet. Harry wondered what the wizarding world thought about mutants. He could just picture Malfoy sneering derisively, proclaiming how rude muggles were to craft themselves something akin to magical gifts.

Harry had planned his move for dinner time. And, as usual, they arrived right at six.

Perhaps it had been Harry's complacent nature that had left his captors feeling at ease. During his time here he'd been nothing short of polite. Indeed, even the more prejudiced individuals were starting to be more at ease around the young mutant. It probably also had something to do with his age. Thin and pale skinned, Harry managed to look even younger than he really was. A few of the orderlies had taken somewhat of a liking to him and had snuck in a few comic books.

A few of the soldiers, who were more used to prison duty, had found the boy rather odd. But something about Harry's easygoing nature had lulled even them into a false sense of security. Thus when an orderly, Kenny, brought Harry his lunch the soldier's gun was left hanging loosely at his side. And Kenny didn't rush about as he had been trained to, rather he came and set the tray on a table, acknowledged Harry's thanks, and turned to leave...not backing out as he had been told.

Two silent stunners to the back had dropped both men quickly. Harry levitated the orderly onto the bed, He was sorry it had been Kenny. He'd been a nice one. So, Harry covered him with a blanket, then absentmindedly shoved the soldier under the bed itself. Slipping on a glamour charm Harry took on Kenny's appearance, then calmly walked out through the open door. He hummed a soft tune as he went. The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

After once again failing to apparate, it seemed the whole building was cloaked in electricity, Harry headed down the hallway.

There weren't any guards in sight. Harry had noticed that before. The designers of this mutant-proof complex had been so proud of their anamantian (whatever that was) lined walls, electric vault spaces, and advanced locking systems that the human element had almost been completely removed from the facility's security. The designers believed that the human components of a security system could be too easily manipulated by mutants. The only reason there were so many soldiers around at all had been because some military official had been worried that the technology could break down. The designers hadn't liked that comment, but they let it slide. Still, most of the guards were stationed around the perimeter of the facility. Only a few remained inside at a time, their only purpose was to aide the scientists in anyway they needed. Being at the beck and call of a bunch of "geeks" wasn't a glamourous job and thus was often given to whatever grunt had annoyed his superior the most that week.

Harry tried to walk casually. He didn't know the floor plan of the facility at all, he could only hope he wasn't wandering around in circles. Still, his escape hadn't been noticed yet, and his disguise wasn't something that they were likely to expect. So, Harry just kept walking at a slow pace, acting like he belonged and that he had some business being wherever he was.

Harry groaned. It all looked the same. That was the problem with the government, everything was bought in bulk. Each door looked the same as the previous, as did all the corridors and the floor tiles.

But as Harry rounded a corner, he began to get the vague idea that he was nearing the outside. The air smelled fresher, less recycled. Air wasn't something that one usually noticed, but after being contained for so long Harry was certain he could sense a difference. He was still following his nose when a bright red light burst from the side of the wall like a jack-in-the-box. The light began swirling around like a police siren, casting the boring hallway into a more menacing light.

"Shit," Harry cursed under his breath. How long had it been? It couldn't have been more than ten minutes. He thought his ruse would provide him more of a head start than that. He quickened his pace a bit, a slow jog, and applauded the muggles on their brilliant if unlucky deduction.

Harry spun around another corner, eyes still on the look out for guards with Uzis. He was trying to figure out which way to go when he stopped short, stumbling a bit. A man lay crumpled on the floor, blocking the hallway. It was an unusual sight after the endless repetitive hallways. Harry backed up, his eyes flickering around. He was the escaping criminal right? There wasn't anyone else supposed to be running around throttling people? So, what had happened to the guard?

A strong hand snaked out from behind him, grabbing his windpipe and forcing Harry backwards and into a very firm chest. He was tempted to slap the hand away when he felt the cold sensation of metal slipping along his skin. By the feel of it, several blades were resting against his jugular. No, moving wasn't the best idea at the moment.

"Be smarter than your friend," a gruff voice advised. Harry listened to the accent for a moment trying to place it. American? "Tell us where the mutants are," the voice added.

Harry fought a laugh, not daring to move his throat, it probably wouldn't be the best idea considering if he moved an inch that odd bundle of blades would slice him open. His captor seemed to realize this and the weapon slid back enough for Harry to speak.

"You're looking for the mutants?" Harry rasped through his now sore throat. He quickly put things together. "Let me guess, terrorist mutants?"

"You're not exactly a terrorist if no one gets hurt, just fighting for what is right." Harry raised an eyebrow. The guard on the floor and Harry's throat might argue with part of that statement. The words had been uttered by a soft feminine voice said from his left. The voice moved into his line of vision and Harry saw a woman with warm chocolate skin and long streaming white hair. There was a fire in her eyes as she spoke and Harry found himself mesmerized for a moment.

"That sounds like a good line," Harry finally replied. The man behind him tightened his grip for a moment. The woman however frowned, and the blades backed up again. Noticing what appeared to be a difference of opinion occurring between the two mutants, Harry used it to his advantage. Twisting his shoulder and throwing back his elbow slightly Harry managed to strike man in the gut. Rolling out of his grip Harry backed up.

He hadn't escaped unscathed. Harry grimaced at the sharp sting coming from his neck, warm blood seeped down his neck soaking into his shirt. Harry raised his hand for a moment casting a healing charm to fix the "scratches". And they were actually scratches, now that he could see the male mutant. It hadn't been knives pressed against his throat but rather some sort of claws. When he pulled his had away the two mutants opened their eyes wide. Harry grinned.

Holding out his hand he greeted them. "Harry Potter, nice to meet you. I thought you wouldn't be showing up so I got myself out. I wasn't in the mood to play lab rat at the moment."

Wolverine eyed the man before him. He looked somewhere in his thirties, short sandy coloured hair. And this stranger had the same mutation as him? Wolverine had never met anyone who could regenerate like he could. It was an odd feeling of connection. Without much thought the Canadian mutant shook the younger man's hand.

"Wolverine" he said.

"That's a name?" Harry asked, his eyebrows bent at an angle.

"Do you know where the others are?" Storm asked.

"Only me," Harry replied. "I overheard some guards complaining," Harry explained.

A loud noise echoed down the hallway making everyone pause.

"Let's go," Wolverine growled. Harry nodded and followed behind the two mutants. He was a little distracted in his escape through. The white haired woman, who hadn't yet introduced herself, ran in front of him, her rather slender body clad in some sort of leather suit. Harry had never seen an actual woman dressed all in leather, and even though she was probably more than a few years older than him, he couldn't deny that it was certainly a diverting experience.

Still, regardless of said distraction, Harry managed to keep up with the swift escape. Thankfully the mutants seemed more aware of where they were going than Harry had been. They crisscrossed through the complex, eventually coming upon a thick door, or perhaps what had once been a thick door. The poor thing was rather melted and charred looking, hanging in its hinges in a desolate way.

Bursting out into the sun, Harry paused to blink rapidly. The bright sunlight seemed to pour down upon him.

"Follow us," the woman shouted. She waved her hand in his direction and Harry stumbled after her.

"STOP THERE" a loud voice shouted over the yard. Harry didn't stop, but did turn his head slightly. Five armed men were running in their direction. The soldiers stopped short and raised their weapons, sighting in on the three fleeing figures. Harry ran faster.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Gunfire seemed to heighten the experience somewhat. The shots echoed against the building behind them. Harry's increased speed had left him level with Wolverine. With a sideways glance Harry noticed that the mutant seemed to be running easily, no where close to being out of breath. Harry himself wasn't doing so well. He'd managed to recuperate some, but he wasn't even close to being back to his full physical strength. He remained himself that it took longer to build a body up than to tear it down.

More pops sounded and Harry tripped up for a minute. He quickly started running again, but Wolverine turned back for a moment a somewhat concerned gaze marring his face, his eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth, likely to ask if Harry was okay, when another round of gunshots sounded. Harry watched, his eyes opening in surprise as Wolverine's chest jerked. The muscle looked like it had exploded, blood spattered around them. Whatever those soldiers were shooting with, they weren't using regular bullets. The shot had blown back the leather uniform, nearly ripping it off, exposing what now looked like raw meat.

Harry's mind snapped into action and he ran towards the damaged mutant. He watched shocked as Wolverine seemed to merely shake himself, before shouting an obscenity at the soldiers, then continuing to run. Harry hurried to catch up.

Suddenly a bolt of lighting came out of the previously sunny sky, shooting over Harry's shoulder. Turning to watch it's movement, Harry grinned to see it slam into the troops behind him. The two men closest were knocked flat on their backs.

Once again pushing aside his surprise, Harry ran catching up with Wolverine. He tried not to be startled when he spotted the mutant's unmarked chest. The old rules obviously didn't apply. Upon entering the wizarding world Harry had often been surprised too. He'd experienced the emotion so much that now he often accepted pretty much anything. There really wasn't a point standing mouth agape, imitating a fish. Running was much more productive.

The white haired woman was in the lead, her feet agilely turning to the left when they encountered a fence. She paused for a moment, then turned to Wolverine expectantly. The male mutant didn't even pause. He opened his hands wide, releasing the claws that Harry had seen earlier. The claws swiping through the barb-wire fencing, and the thicker chainlink as if they were as substantial as butter. Harry in turn followed Wolverine, slipping through the gap the man had created.

"Hurry." Harry turned to see the female mutant standing behind him. Her face was turned away but with a wave of her hand another burst of lightning ripped from the sky, shooting towards the approaching soldiers. She turned back, eyes a burning, sparking white.

Escaping through the gap in the fence was slightly tricky, Harry snagged an arm on the sharp metal. Too busy to bother healing it, he kept running.

"They're following us," Harry shouted to the others. A large tan jeep had emerged from the side of the facility, speeding after them.

"They won't catch us in this," Storm said proudly. Harry looked up and spotted a sleek jet. The cargo hold was already opening, Wolverine leaping onto the still lowering door. Harry followed suit.

"Get this thing in the air," commanded Wolverine with a disgruntled voice. The woman ran past them both, arranging herself in a black chair, her hands grabbing the controls on the dash in front of her. The plane took to the air with the cargo bay doors still agape. Harry heard more gun shots fired in their direction but in moments the sound faded. The air whistling against the metal was louder than the confusion they had left behind them.

"This is just great," Wolverine complained. He lifted the bits of torn leather in his hand.

"Why do you care?" Storm asked from behind the controls. "That isn't even yours, it's Scotts."

"You're right," Wolverine said. Suddenly he seemed much happier. "Still, Wheels," the weather woman rolled her eyes at the cheeky nickname, "he said he wanted me to do him a little favor. I thought he wanted me to, I don't know, bring him back some duty-free alcohol. Not cross the world getting shot at."

Harry stood between them watching the easy banter.

"It isn't as if it damaged that hide of yours," she replied.

"Still hurts," argued Wolverine, although he added this quietly, the woman pretended not to hear.

Wolverine turned, finally spotting the other man in the jet. He stood a little slackly, but looked rather healthy. In fact he didn't look like he'd been held for long. His skin still had a rather healthy glow to it. Still his posture seemed to suggest a great tiredness. His breath had a sort of whistle to it, as if his lungs were having trouble getting air, his shoulders slumped. He looked tired. Wolverine casually observed this, he also observed that the kid smelled as if he hadn't had a real shower for quite few days. But the short blonde hair seemed clean. He was a bundle of contradictions. It was difficult to guess the man's age. Wolverine had thought he was in his late twenties or early thirties. But then it was difficult to guesstimate with their particular power. He himself had been searching for his forgotten identity for fifteen years, not seeming to age a day during that time.

"Harry right?" Wolverine asked.

"Yep, not quite as interesting as Wolverine mind you."

"I'm Storm," the woman said, finally introducing herself. Harry nodded. Yep, it made sense. Although he did have to wonder who had named these people.

Wolverine settled in a chair near Storm, Harry happily joined them. Dropping into a similar chair, slightly behind the two mutants. He smiled as the sky slide past them. What he wouldn't give for a broom, Harry thought to himself.

"Pretty nice, huh," Wolverine said noticing Harry's admiring gaze, falsely assuming that the youngish man was examining the jet.

"Yeah, I've never been in an airplane before," Harry admitted.

"Well this isn't quite like your average plane," Storm said smartly. Her voice was a trifle compassionate. Things had been degrading for English mutants for years. Most weren't granted the rights of citizenship, not even something as basic as being allowed a passport. She knew some hidden mutant communities whose residents had never gone further than 30 km from their homes. The relocation laws now being put in place throughout many cities was causing problems for these pockets of mutant society.

"So who are you?" Harry finally managed to ask. The guards' ideas about what these terrorist mutants were capable of wasn't anything like this. These two seemed very efficient, part of an organized group. Harry had pictured them fighting a more impoverished guerrilla warfare style. He certainly hadn't pictured them having jets.

"Well, we're a group from America." Harry nodded. "And we've been trying to help out these last few days. We've been in contact with a few groups here and in Europe but not long after the relocating laws were passed...we've lost touch with them." Storm said this while looking forward, but Harry got the distinct feeling that a frown was on her pretty face.

"So you're fighters?" Harry asked. Trying to understand this organization.

"No, I'm a teacher" Storm replied.

This Harry wasn't prepared for. He cocked his head, looking at the somewhat fierce Wolverine. The man seemed to notice Harry's surprised expression and the covert glaces towards himself.

"What, I can't be a teacher too?" he inquired.

"I suppose so," Harry finally said. Afterall, he'd had his share of bizarre teachers, who was he to judge.

Storm chuckled slightly. "What would you teach?" she asked the feral man at Harry's side. Moving on, deftly ignoring Wolverine's growl, she continued speaking to Harry. "I teach at a school for people like us, for mutants."

"There's a school?" Harry asked. They were obviously more developed than Harry had thought.

Storm nodded. "It's a safe place," she added. She glanced at Harry's thoughtful face. "If there is nothing holding you here...perhaps you'd like to come with us."

Harry drummed his fingers thoughtfully. Perhaps he didn't understand this world as much as he had thought. There was obviously something more complicated at work here. He found himself very curious. It was the same curiosity which had encouraged him to pursue the Philosopher's stone all those years ago and the same curiosity which had pushed him to solve all the riddles since. Harry gazed out a window, looking down he could see his homeland peeking between clouds. A patchwork quilt of farmland and city.

In a far dark corner of Harry's mind, another voice stated its opinion. There was no one waiting for him down there. No mother or father to be concerned for his safety, no friends to wonder where he'd gone, not even a meddling headmaster to advise him what path he should choose. He was quite alone in this world, at least for now. He knew eventually he'd venture to Hogwarts and try to discover what this wizarding world held. Merlins knows, he might be facing another battle with Voldemort. And, as much as the idea of meeting his family appealed to him, once again becoming a chess piece in the epic battle of good and evil did not.

Not that Harry was particularly aware of this part of his subconscious. All he saw was another mystery, and he was filled the unavoidable urge to follow it to its end. He ignored the reason he had ventured to this world in the first place, not even trying to question why he might be avoiding subject.

"I never did finish school," Harry said aloud after a moment.

Storm smiled, glad he was coming. But the smile didn't go to her eyes. "Oh, well I'm sure the professor could offer you some adult classes. We try and find the students before they get out of high school but it isn't always possible. Sadly, many mutants have been kept from gaining their educations." She tutted softly.

Harry frowned. Before he was out of high school? He grinned at her. How old did he look. He hadn't exactly seen a mirror since he'd been captured but he couldn't look that bad. Could he? Harry turned and looked at his reflection in one of the window surprised to see not his face, but that of Kenny the orderly.

"Oops," Harry said with a little chagrin. He rubbed his hair dispelling the glamour charm. The body of a healthy 30-something Kenny seemed to fall away like water, leaving a rather skinny 16 year old Harry. "Sorry about that, forgot, I'm Harry."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: School Days

-

Storm continued shooting glances at Harry for the rest of the flight to the States. After his glamour charm had fallen away, both mutants seemed to think of Harry in a very different way, Storm most of all. She had taken one look at his thin face, large green eyes and thin limbs before turning away and in a husky voice telling Wolverine to fetch him a blanket from one of the overhead bins. Before Harry could complain he had been bundled into a blanket, leaving only his confused face sticking out.

"I had thought..." Storm shook her head. She busied herself flying the plane, not wanting to embarrass the poor boy.

"So you're a kid," had been Wolverine's response. He didn't seem nearly as upset as Storm.

Harry had sneered at that comment, "I'm sixteen."

"Like I said, you're a kid."

"Bugger off," Harry complained absently. He wasn't about to tell them that he hadn't been a kid for a long time. Adults never understood that, and arguing would just look like whinging. Instead he leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes. He wasn't really sleeping, just letting his body rest after the mad dash from the facility to the jet. While this last week had repaired some of the damage of his imprisonment, Harry hadn't been able to do much exercising in his small room. He still hadn't built up the muscle that he had lost.

-

The jet was quiet for a moment. Storm subtly glanced back again, her white hair tickling her nose as she peered at the young man now seemingly asleep. She quickly turned back to watching the sky, the jet easily sliding past the clouds as it raced home. Home to Xavier's school. The only place that was safe. She felt a burning ball of anger settle in her stomach when she thought about what had been done to Harry. The boy looked half starved. How could people be so cruel? Storm knew this anger and this fear. It had been a part of her ever since she had discovered her own mutation. Normally she managed to keep it quietly contained. But sometimes, when cruel things were done, especially to children, it seemed to bring the old anger back. Moments like this she forced herself to remember the professor's calm voice, his steady hands as he let her cry out her anguish. She let his voice run through her mind, whispering the reasons, the excuses, the words of forgiveness. He held her and the other X-men to a higher standard. And she didn't want to let him down.

Still, how could people do this?

"How much longer?"Wolverine asked at her side.

"Just an hour or so," She replied.

The two were quiet for a moment, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Perhaps that was the reason the Professor had allowed Wolverine and Storm to make this trip together. Usually Storm and Cyclops were responsible for missions. But Xavier seemed convinced that Wolverine would be an asset to the team, and had hastened for an excuse to keep him around after the Liberty Island incident. A simple scouting expedition to England seemed like a good distraction. Of course, Wolverine wasn't one to follow the rules. Storm didn't regret that now, flying back home with the skeletal Harry Potter she felt glad that Wolverine had seen his opportunity and taken it.

"Bet you wish you'd have let me shish kebab a few of those guards now," commented Wolverine,.

"That isn't our way. We got Harry out, that is all that matters," Storm's voice was a little quieter than her regular tone, but the conviction was still evident.

"Yeah sure." Wolverine looked down at the boy. He watched him for a moment, noticing the steady rise and fall of his chest. Turning back to Storm he moved closer and spoke in an undertone. "Do you think his mutation is quite right?"

"What do you mean?" she asked just as quietly.

"He can heal, sure, so can I. But the shifting the way he looks thing. How are those two connected?"

Storm was silent for a moment. "They're probably connected in some form. It isn't terribly unusual for a single mutation to look like more than one, it all depends on how it affects the body. The Professor will probably have an idea."

Wolverine shrugged in his seat. "Quite a surprise though, isn't the kid, I thought we'd be adding another X-man to your team."

"It's your team too," added Storm.

Wolverine ignored this comment. He also leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Just a little off is all," he said more quietly still.

Storm paid him no mind and soon Wolerin settled into sleep. She concentrated on returning the two sleeping mutants to New York. She had no way of knowing that only one man had given into sleep. Harry's ears absorbed the new information coming his way, trying to decipher what a mutant should be from the pair's conversation. He'd need to be careful now that he was among his 'fellow mutants'. Still, it couldn't be that hard. Just stick to what they had already seen and ixnay the magic for bit. The word 'X-men' had tugged at his curiosity as well.

-

The X-jet settled back into its hanger beneath the basketball court. In Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, a few students had paused in their work to admire the sleek jet smoothly disappear from sight. Glances were shared by all, each young mutant wondering what sort of adventure the X-men had been getting into today.

"Come on, back to work" Scott, lectured from the front of the room. He was also curious about what the Professor had asked Storm and Wolverine to do, but he couldn't let the students slack off. Still as he gazed around the room, abuzz with teenage whispers, he shook his head. It was the last class on Friday, and had been difficult enough keeping their minds focused on the assignment. Now it would be impossible.

"Alright, why don't we end class a little early today," relented Scott. There was a distinct pause for a moment while everyone tried to determine if their teacher was serious. Cyclops, as Scott was called, had a reputation as a rule abiding teacher. The red sunglasses he wore, which served to contain his laser vision, made judging his expression difficult at times. Still the pause didn't last for long as one student, Pyro, leaped into the air with a whoop. The others quickly followed his example, swiftly packing up their bags before their teacher changed his mind.

Scott was in an equal hurry to leave. He managed to control himself until the last student left before standing up and quick stepping to the Professor's office. He certainly hoped that the errand the Professor had asked Wolverine to run had been important. Prior to the Professor's request, the Canadian mutant had been contemplating leaving, which Scott thought would be a good idea, one that would once again restore the school to its semblance of order. It was no secret that Scott didn't like Wolverine's brash ways, or the man's blatant overtures to Scott's girlfriend Jean.

-

Harry rode in a somewhat impressive looking lift, leaving the lower levels behind. He had been interested by the area downstairs. Very sleek, like the Jet, stainless steel seemed to be something of a design constant. It looked clean at least, if perhaps a little cold.

When the lift doors opened Harry's eyes widened slightly at the change in decoration. The main level of the mansion seemed much nicer. The walls were a mixture of elegant wood paneling and cream walls, the floors were made of a honey colored wood, various rugs scattered here and there. Paintings lined the walls and furniture seemed to be settled anywhere there was space. Large overstuffed chairs tucked into a corner, a sofa skirting a wall. While everything looked nice and expensive, the place had a lived in feel to it. There were a few scuffs on the floor here and there, one well lacquered table was covered in paper airplanes. Someone had left a televison on somewhere, emitting random bursts of noise. Harry smiled. It was the type of place he liked, filled with life. He'd forgotten how relaxing something as silly as having pictures on the wall could be. He'd been in cold, empty places for a long time.

Harry continued following Storm as she steered him from one corridor to another. Soon other noises joined them. A stampede of footsteps and voices filling the halls. Class seemed to have let out as quite a few teenagers, bags slung across backs and shoulders, emerged from wooden doors. They smiled easily, chatting together. Most paused for a moment as Storm, Wolverine and Harry passed. They eyed Harry with a little interest, but their gazes weren't overtly malicious or curious. They seemed to take his haggard appearance and odd dress as a matter of course.

In fact, Harry found himself more interested in them than they were in him. So these were mutants. Most of them seemed pretty normal looking. He looked among the small crowd curiously. Perhaps a few people stood out a bit. One thin girl had a vivid green head of hair, another boy must have stood over seven feet tall.

"Stop it Max!" Harry heard one girl complain. She was glaring daggers at a boy with gold eyes. The boy smirked, snapped his fingers and the girl's hair stood on end as if she'd stuck a fork in an electrical outlet.

"Hey!" Max complained when the girl retaliated, drenching him in water from head to toe. He took a step towards her, his hands raised, electricity crackling between his fingertips. A gust of wind separated the two, causing the pictures on the wall to wobble somewhat.

"Max, Ariel, what have we said about fighting in the corridors," Storm admonished. The pair stared at the floor and mumbled under their breath, each blaming the other. Storm rolled her eyes. "I know it's difficult but you're really better off getting along. There are enough problems for mutants in this world without us attacking each other. Now if I see you acting this outrageously again you'll be cleaning the cafeteria for a week."

Apparently this was a significant fear, as both teens looked slightly panicked before nodding vigorously and going on their way.

Storm continued leading the way, Wolverine chuckling darkly. Harry thought Storm must make a great teacher. He'd hate to imagine what Snape would have done if Harry had been caught using magic in the corridors. Although, Harry smiled, a detention with the beautiful white haired mutant might not be a bad thing.

Finally the pair reached a rather prominent looking door. A small metal plaque claimed that it the office of _Professor Charles Xavier: Headmaster_.

"Good Lord, what is he doing here?" a woman's voice demanded just as Storm was about to open the door. Harry turned to see a proper looking woman with long red hair. She approached them, her heels clicking in the floor as she walked. An expression of concern seemed to control her features, brushing past Wolverine and Storm she stationed herself in front of Harry. Harry could only watch somewhat amused as the woman laid her hand against his forehead and with the other began expertly feeling for his pulse.

"Jean, we were just bringing Harry to meet the Professor. He was being kept by the English military. Harry this is Jean Grey, she's another teacher here, she is also a doctor." Storm explained.

"Well you could have radioed in that he'd need medical attention," the red haired woman argued. She seemed somewhat appeased by whatever information she had received by checking his vitals and now was only looking at him with observant eyes.

"I assure you I'm quite fine, ma'am," Harry responded. While his statement had meant to relieve her, she seemed to be looking at him harder than ever.

"Well come along, I'll be the judge of that," dictated the woman. She placed a guiding hand on his shoulder and began to lead him away. Harry found he could only nod reluctantly as she guided him back down the hall. Drat, he thought to himself, another school nurse. This one was probably worse than Madam Pormfry, who knew what muggle medicines she'd subject him to. Harry managed to catch Wolverine's eye as he was lead away, the gruff mutant had only grinned sympathetically.

Harry was left with only one conclusion, he was done for.

-

Once Harry had been shuffled away by Jean, Storm and Wolverine entered the Professor's office. Wolverine lingering in the hallway a little longer than necessary to watch the slender redhead walk away. There were no students inside Charles's office, which was unusual as the professor often taught the advanced classes in there. The only other person in the room was Scott, who was seated in a chair. Both of the men turned when the pair entered, it seemed they had been expected.

"How did it go?" asked the Professor from behind concerned eyes.

Storm nodded. "We found the complex well enough, sadly by the size of it the place isn't their main facility. Um, Logan decided that we could handle it on our own." Cyclops spluttered at this comment, but Storm continued on ignoring him. "Also there was only one mutant inside. We actually ran into him while he was escaping."

Both Scott and the Professor turned to each other. "Escaping, on his own? That's impressive. Did he choose to come with you or remain in England?"

"He was kidnaped," Storm said through amused eyes. The Professor smiled softly but Scott stood up. His mind obviously already planning a rescue attempt, the laser eyed mutant had been very disappointed not to have been able to come along on the previous mission.

"By who? How?" he demanded.

"Just now, outside the Professor's door." Storm continued to tease her fellow X-man.

"What?" Scott's expression was priceless. All the previous determination that made him a great leader seemed to sag out of his body. Storm decided to let him out of his misery.

"Jean took him to the Medical Area. You know how she is about new ones brought in." Scott stood still for a moment glaring at Storm, if the young woman had to guess, he had rolled his eyes before sitting down again.

"So he's a young man," the Professor commented, knowing that while Jean cared for all human life, she was only extremely possessive when it came to the health of people she considered students. Even if they weren't technically students yet.

"Just a kid," Wolverine added.

"And his mutation?" The Professor asked.

The pair shared glances. Their minds easily supplied the reason for the confusion.

"Ah," the professor commented thoughtfully, "He seems to have some sort of control over his physiology. He can heal and change shape. An interesting mutation indeed. I wonder if he has any control over his strength and flexibility as well?"

"He must have some interesting tricks, to get out alone" Wolverine muttered, "That place was a fortress."

"I thought you said it was a small facility, Why would you just charge in–"

"We handled it," grunted Wolverine.

Cyclops was ready to argue so the Professor quickly interfered. "Ah, and there weren't any signs of other mutants?"The older man crossed his fingers and frowned for a moment.

"That, I'm afraid, is rather bad news." Raising a hand to his temple, the telepath continued, "In the last week, twenty or so mutants whom I have been in contact with have disappeared. I haven't been able to even find them using Cerebro. One was Thomas Winter. He was leader of one of the safe compounds created in the north, Scotland I believe, and was in the plans for building a school for mutants similar to this one. A closer safe haven for European mutants. I offered my services to help him locate these young mutants before their governments discovered them." The Professor paused. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't often that Cerebro couldn't find someone, unless they were already dead. "Sadly, he and his associates seem to have vanished."

Thomas Winter, otherwise known as Telltale, was a very powerful mutant and could control people by his voice. He was also very like the Professor in his high opinion of human life. If Thomas Winter was indeed dead, it would mean a terrible situation for Mutants throughout Europe.

"Could this boy know anything?" Scott asked, he leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips as he spoke. Xavier felt a renewed lift of hope in the room. He himself allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. If his people had not given up hope, then neither would he.

"Scott if you would try to pry Harry from Jean, perhaps-"

"I'll do it," Wolverine volunteered. He crossed to the door, shooting a cocky grin at the younger man in the room. Scott muttered to himself, something vague about whether Wolverine's regenerating capabilities could withstand lasers.

-

previously

-

Jean tossed her head as she spoke,"I don't know what they were thinking. Wolverine always forgets about normal health problems people can have, seems to think his own invulnerability extends to everyone else." She continued muttering on this rant for a moment and Harry realized this was a different path than they had taken before.

"Where are we going?" Harry managed to inquire.

"Medical room," Jean said simply. She noted Harry's confusion.

"I suppose Storm took you on a different route. She usually likes to let new students see the school a bit. This way is quicker."

Indeed it was, in moments Jean had him downstairs and sitting on a metal examination table. Far too quick indeed.

"Take your shirt of," she stated while looking in a cabinet. Harry turned to her. She didn't expect him to strip did she? He had definitely grown used Madam Pomfry's wand waving method. Jean turned and seemed to note his hesitation.

"There isn't anything I haven't seen, just the shirt," She waved her hands, a playful smile on her lips.

Harry bit his teeth into an awkward grin, and quickly lifted his shirt over his head to hide it. The room felt colder without the warmth his gray, military issue garment had provided. He hunched forward trying to stay warm.

Without his noticing, Jean's lips narrowed as she took in the damage on his body. There were quite a few scars. More than she'd seen on any teenagers previously. Sadly abuse, in many shapes and forms, had been dealt upon the students of Xavier's schools. She'd grown accomplished at mending wounds without further embarrassing the students who bore them. She'd admit Harry was a bad case.

The scars littered his body, some old, most were newer. She deftly ignored these, not making any comment, attaching a few sensors along his body to more accurately read his vital signs. She frowned as he fingers brushed against his skin. In addition to the scar tissue, the young man was unhealthy thin, his ribs protruding slightly.

"Open," she directed. Placing a thermometer under his tongue for only a moment. She smiled to see that his temperature was normal. "Follow me."

Harry nodded. Jean lead Harry to a scale. She frowned when she saw how much he weighed. His height she guesstimated to be over five feet three inches, or 1.6 meters. Still his weight was well under what it should be.

"How long have they been starving you?" she asked. Her tone tried to be clinical, making it as impersonal as possible. Still, she thought some of her concern must have leeched into her words. The boy shook his head, smiling for her benefit.

"They didn't. Actually it was pretty nice there. Three meals a day."

Jean bit her tongue as she tried to challenge what must have been an obvious lie. The kids who came to this school were often damaged. But the Professor had pulled them all from the brink. He could help Harry too. So she merely nodded curtly. She turned him to the side and frowned again.

"That's a nasty cut," she said, wondering why she hadn't noticed the fresh slice before.

"Oh," Harry looked down at his arm. "I forgot about that, got it when we were breaking through the fence. Wolverine's claws certainly are sharp," commented Harry, remembering the way the mutant had sliced through the fence surrounding the facility.

Jean was about to get some gauze or bandages when to her surprise the wound healed before her eyes.

"How...?"

"I can heal myself," Harry explained. Jean blinked. She'd never seen a regeneration mutation that needed to be called into service. One would think, as with Wolverine, the healing would be instantaneous. She bit her tongue again. Finally she stepped back and met his eyes. Harry seemed to know that she was going to deliver her prognosis. He smiled reassuringly at her. What she couldn't have known was that the smile was an attempt to convince her that he didn't need to stay the night in this muggle hospital wing, something Madam Pomfrey would surely have recommended.

"I want you to eat some of these Carbo Bars over the next few days. And when I say some, I mean lots. As much as you feel you can safely. Preferably two or three between meals. They are high in rich calories, and will help you build up your weight quicker. Make sure to eat plenty during meal times, and drink lots of fluids." Jean waved her hand and a cupboard opened, a small cardboard box flying into her hand. Harry looked at the box and noticed that it was filled with some sort of food bar wrapped in silver packaging.

"That's neat," Harry said staring as the cupboard door closed with a thought. Harry thought Jean was quite sharp for a doctor, and she hadn't mentioned bed rest yet, which Harry was feeling excited about that.

She smiled at his obvious interest. "I'm telepathic and telekentic," she stated.

"Does that mean you can read minds?" Harry asked. He had stilled somewhat and was watching her closely. He didn't look concerned, but she had the feeling that he was.

"Sort of, not very well though. Maybe someday I'll be able to be as good as the Professor...but right now it's rather jumbled."

"Oh." Harry paused. "So, what's this Professor like?"

Jean smiled warmly. She was well aware of the general feeling of nervousness that most students had when coming here. Most had been kicked out by their families, or afraid of what their families would think, had run away. It was only reasonable for these children to fear rejection, so she did her best to put his mind at ease.

"He's nice. He founded this school as a safe place for people like us. He's taken in every mutant who has ever needed a home. He really just wants to help you. We work to help you control your mutation, but you also get a regular education, and help you to blend in with the world outside." Jean patted the young man's shoulder comfortingly.

"Oh." Harry was silent as Jean continued to bustle around the medical room. Harry still thought she seemed rather young to be a doctor, but she had been really nice too. This Professor didn't sound like a bad guy either. He just wanted to help kids who didn't have anywhere else to go. Harry knew it was wrong to worried about meeting him, but any mindreader made him nervous. What if his occulemancy didn't keep out this Professor's mutation? It guarded against magical intrusion after all. Still, he doubted that such a kind man would kick him out, even if he wasn't a mutant per se. He was surprised to note how much he wanted to stay. Satisfying curiosity was one thing, but Harry found he didn't want to leave. Not yet. Oh sure, part of it was pure curiosity, but he also liked what he had seen of the mansion. Warm, friendly, a little odd perhaps. Following after Storm he had felt reminded of Hogwarts, in those early years. It had been so long since he had been anywhere as nice.

Also, Harry hadn't missed the covert looks of pity being displayed by Storm and Jean. It wouldn't do to meet his parents looking like some sort of pitiable whelp. Also, Harry thought with a scowl, if Voldemort were causing mischief he'd want to be top form. He didn't want to fight his war again, but if he had to, he was going to win.

"I see she got your shirt off," grunted a voice from the door. Harry turned with a grin, spotting the somewhat truculent mutant.

"Logan!" Jean said, some surprise in her calm voice. She hurriedly busied herself with removing the small suction things that had been attached to his body. Harry had no idea what they were, they might be new to this world, or they might just be standard muggle medicine. He hadn't been to a muggle doctor since...the Dursely's weren't keen on doctor bills so it had been a long time.

Jean had expertly regained her composure and raised an eyebrow at the mutant, taking in his own torn uniform. "I see you managed to get some of your own shirt off."

"Only for you," he responded with a casual grin. Jean turned away and Harry had the feeling she was very much trying to avoid the other mutant.

"Logan?" Harry inquired.

"That's Wolverine to you kid," the man said with a toothy grin. Harry chuckled.

"Am I going to have to come up with a dorky nickname too," Harry asked.

"Only if you're lucky bub, if you aren't lucky I'll pick one for you." Harry gave a pretend horrified look while Wolverine raised his eyebrows threateningly.

"What are you doing down here," Jean asked with some exasperation in her tone.

"Professor wants to see the kid, if you say so," Wolverine added the last bit quickly, hoping to appease the fiery doctor.

"I suppose so. I want to see you eating those bars I gave you, and if I don't see much improvement you'll be getting a bunch of vitamin capsules to take as well" warned Jean. Harry shrugged. Before he knew it, a Carbo bar had been levitated into his mouth. Harry faced the doctor and sputtered.

Removing the bar he turned to her, "You could have taken off the wrapper first."

"Eat," she instructed him. As he rose to his feet, Jean handed him his shirt and Harry hastily threw it back on.

-

The three mutants returned to the Professor's office. Harry eating a Carbo bar as they went. He hadn't been hungry, but Jean insisted. Harry hadn't exactly fought her, he himself wanted to build up his body again, but Jean seemed used to fighting with struggling students, so he let her have her way.

Harry was also thinking while they walked, using this moment of silence to rehearse the story he had thought up on the flight over. It was a good story, or so Harry thought, and an interesting blend of the truth and fiction. As the best lies always were. It should explain his current condition, his lack of belongings, and perhaps even some of his confusion in this world.

Before they opened the door, Harry felt an old concern return. Voldemort had really caused him to distrust anyone with telepathic abilities. Yet he managed to quickly squash his feelings, reminding himself that these were good people. The door open, Harry peered inside curious as to what he'd see.

First he spotted Storm, she was seated in a chair, her legs crossed, still wearing the same tight leather ensemble from earlier. Harry politely turned away after only a casual glance, feeling quite proud of his restraint. Another young man, strange red sunglasses on his nose. He seemed somewhat impassive. Finally Harry got to the last occupant of the room. While Harry had been growing used to this new world, nothing had prepared him for this.

On some level, Harry had expected to see an Albus Dumbledore character staring back at him. Through his years a Hogwarts, the long white beard, tall slender build, and robes vibrant enough to stop a muggle bus had become symbolic of authority and power. An odd symbol, but hey you go with what you know. Hence Harry couldn't help but be surprised by the very different figure that was presented in Professor Charles Xavier. The man was completely bald, his face clean-shaven, his clothes a boring suit and tie that even the Durselys would have approved of. It was utterly bizarre. Finally Harry mustered his courage and met the older mutant's face which was softly lined with wrinkles, Harry spotted warm blue eyes.

However it seemed that the man did share one thing in common with Harry's former esteemed Headmaster. Harry tried not to cringe when he felt a mental probe scuttle across his Occulemancy shield. The ability at work had a different, more natural feel than that of Legillamancy. If Legillamancy were a stick, poking at a mind, than whatever the professor was doing was like a spider moving agilely across the surface. Harry noted with some interest, and much relief, that whatever sort of mutant magic the Professor was using Occulamancy managed to block, for now. Sensing the deep well of power contained in the man seated before him, Harry doubted that he could stop any serious attempt.

"Please take a seat, Harry?" The Professor said warmly. They both pretended to ignore the mental event which had occurred.

Harry nodded."Harry Potter," he greeted.

"Please, call me Professor Xavier, or merely Professor as so many do. Well, Storm has told me that you would like to finish your education."

"Umm, yeah, I guess." Harry said scratching his face absently.

"What grade were you in last?" Harry turned as the young man with sunglasses addressed him. The glasses completely blocked the man's eyes and were of a strange red color. He was curious what mutation would need this. However the man didn't seem offended by Harry's curious gaze and smiled back. Everyone in this room was used to the curiosity of the new mutants. Depending on where a person was from, it was possible that they had never met another of their kind before. Also most mutants were forced to adopt the skill of secrecy, it was sometimes difficult to know a person was a mutant even if you met one.

"Umm...its been awhile," conceded Harry, thinking back to his last muggle class when he was ten.

"Not to worry Harry, many mutants were out of school for some time before finding their way here." The Professor continued watching the self-contained young man with some interest.

"I guess, fifth year," Harry said with a shrug. He wasn't particularly embarrassed about it.

Silent glances were exchanged. "Not to worry," the Professor repeated calmly, Harry was starting to wonder if it was the man's favorite phrase. "Perhaps we'll schedule some assessment tests to judge whether it would be best for you to join your peers or have more private tutoring."

"Thanks professor," Harry said warmly. He really wasn't intending on being here for that long, but the offer was very nice.

"Not at all." The professor paused for a moment, "Harry, I did ask you here to discuss something other than your classes. I understand you were being held by the British military. We managed to learn about your trial a few days ago and began trying to trail where you might have been taken. I am sorry it took so long to help you," Charles bowed his head and looked into his palms for a moment. Harry could sense the great burden this man must have, the old man actually felt responsible for all the mutants in this world. That seemed quite ridiculous to Harry and he decided to try and put the man at ease.

"Don't concern yourself sir, I only stayed so long because it was rather nice there," Harry's honest reply was meant to relieve the old mutant of his guilt, but instead seemed to spark his curiosity.

"You stayed on purpose?" The professor's words were met with confused glances among the other mutants in the room.

"Well, uh yeah," Harry said somewhat uneasily, he'd realized that perhaps that wasn't a normal thing people would say. But then his idea of normal was terribly askew at this point, it was difficult to judge. Again he wondered if he'd gone a little off his nut. He tried to joke the situation off,

"You know, three meals a day, could be worse." Smile. Harry hoped the performance was somewhat acceptable.

"I'm glad you're alright Harry." The Professor paused and tilted his head. "I was wondering, however, if you might have had any word about other mutants when you were there. Sadly, many mutants from the UK have disappeared in the days leading up to Mutant Act passing, as well as in the days after. London seems to still be providing the pretense of a trial, sadly other places have not even observed this right." The Professor's voice seemed to grow more weary as he spoke.

"I did hear about another facility up north," Harry provided. Xavier's eyes flashed upward. "They didn't send me there right away because of...medical reason... but I think that is where they were taking the others. One of the doctors was new...the day I broke out, he said I'd be the last."

"Did you hear where in the North?" The Professor asked.

Harry shook his head. "Just North."

"Well thank you Harry, that will be some help. If you remember anything else I'd appreciate if you'd tell me." The Professor's eyes were very kind, Harry decided. Harry nodded his head and yawned.

"Understandably tired, eh?" The Professor asked.

Harry cringed before nodding. The run from the facility, plus the time difference between London and New York were wearing down on the young wizard.

"I think we have a spare bed open in John and Bobby's room, I'm sure they'll be happy to share. The dormitories are just one floor up," The Professor directed.

"I'll show ya," decided Wolverine.

"He should eat, Professor," urged Jean. She was standing near the headmaster's desk with a rather firm look on her face. Harry held up the box of carbo bars to tell her he still had them. "A proper dinner," she added seeing the bars.

"Well Bobby and John can show Harry to the cafeteria in a bit, then off to bed."

Harry nodded in agreement, he found he was easy to agree considering how well things had gone. He'd been prepared to be denounced "normal" and perhaps removed from this rather nice school. Instead he'd been given a room and a meal was imminent. He hadn't even had to use the history he had made up, which he was almost a little disappointed at. After all that work, would it have killed them to ask about his past...on second thought maybe it was better they hadn't asked. Harry was slowly putting the pieces of this world together, including learning more about the mutants and their involvement here. He'd already come to the conclusion that the doctors in that military facility hadn't known much about mutants at all. They had seen mutants as nothing more than curiosities, genetic mutations. Harry was learning there was a great deal of very human emotion connected and bundled to these people. He'd certainly enjoy recuperating here.

Wolverine steered Harry from the office and up a flight of wide stairs. As they climbed Harry noted more of the casual evidence of living as he had seen on the floors below. A football lay in the middle of one hallway, little odds and ends like pencils and scrap pieces of paper with old notes cluttered the floor, shoved along walls and into corners. Rather loud music, some punk rock chant, poured from behind one closed door. Other doors were opened and Harry glimpsed beds and desks inside, many of the rooms as disorganized as the Gryffindor dorms back home. Sometimes a face would peer out inquisitively as Harry and Wolverine walked by.

Wolverine wasn't particularly familiar with the school himself yet, thus he happened to lead Harry down the wrong corridor (perhaps a girl's hallway by the smell of perfume which permeated the area.)

"Logan!" one such girl had called when the pair walked by the open door. Harry turned to spot a somewhat pretty girl standing in her doorway, she had reddish brown hair with odd white streaks framing her face. She smiled warmly at Wolverine, then placed gloved hands on her hips.

"What are you doin' around here?" she asked, her voice an interesting southern drawl.

"Trying to find that Bobby kid's room, you wouldn't happen to know where it is would you?" Wolverine scratched at his ear in a somewhat canine fashion.

"Round back the other way," she said pointing her hand in the direction they had just come from.

"Thanks," he said brusquely, turning on his heel with Harry following after.

"I'll be seein' you at dinner, right?" she called after him. Wolverine offered a curt nod in response.

It still managed to take a moment for them to find the correct hallway. Harry seriously wondered why Wolverine had offered his services as a guide when the man seemed to know where he was going only a little better than Harry himself. Eventually they managed to come across a door with a cardboard sign on in. The sign read "IceMan" in blue writing, and then written in flames "Pyro". The sign also indicated, in smaller lettering, that the room belonged to Bobby and another name. The other name was illegible considering it had been scribbled out by a thick black marker.

Before knocking Wolverine seemed to pause, he grunted for a moment.

"You eh, ever need a hand around here. I might be around for a bit," the man said.

Harry grinned and tried not to laugh at the macho offer. "Thanks," he replied warmly all the same.

"That was nice elbow, back there in the facility. A little work on it, and you might not even have been nicked. Wheels was saying something about me teaching."

"You, teach?!" Harry said in amazement.

"Watch it bub," warned Wolverine, with what Harry hoped was a playful edge to his tone. "You'll be sounding like that weather witch down there. Personal defense, if there is one thing I'm good at it's that. If you wanted to work a bit, we could get you in top fighting form."

Harry paused. He knew Wolverine meant well, he supposed it was really a compliment that the fierce man thought Harry had what it took to be a good student. Still...

"I sort of hoped I wouldn't need it anymore," Harry said softly.

The mutant's sharp ears heard every word, and when the young boy looked up, Wolverine found himself reflected in sharp green eyes. Old eyes. It only lasted a moment before Harry smiled and looked away. Logan turned to leave as Harry knocked on the door. The Canadian mutant was left to wander back to the professor's office, wondering how a young man had such old eyes.

When he reentered, Storm, Jean and Scott were gathered around the headmaster's desk. They were speaking in low hurried tones.

"Ah, Logan. Harry settle in okay?" The Professor asked, looking up from amid his previous students.

Wolverine merely nodded.

"It seems we've discovered another unique ability of Mr. Potter's," Xavier said with a thoughtful look on his face.

"What?" Wolverine frowned.

"The Professor couldn't enter his mind," Jean answered with a sigh.

-

"Come on in" said a voice responding to Harry's knock. Harry did as told, slowly entering the room inside. Harry's first thought was that _this_ was a teenager's room. And a teenage boy's at that. For a moment the young men themselves didn't register. Rather the room did, Harry found himself looking around with an odd feeling of nostalgia. Books lay about haphazardly, clothes were bunched on chairs and in piles on the floor. A few posters, muggle things Harry didn't know, were hung on the wall. A band dressed in black glared down fiercely from one wall, on the opposite wall a tall blonde woman posed provocatively.

The occupants themselves were situated stretched on their beds. One boy, probably about Harry's age, was lying on his stomach looking at a math book. He looked at Harry and seemed to be trying to figure if he knew him, a confused gaze on his face. The other boy, similar in age, had darker brown hair that was slicked back and hung down past his ears. Rather than studying, this young mutant had his eyes closed and was listening to music on his headphones.

"Hello, I'm Harry," the wizard managed to say, realizing he'd been staring for a moment. It seemed almost odd to be back in a school again, even if the environment was welcoming. "The uh, Professor said I could have the extra bed in this room."

The blonde boy jumped to his feet. "I'm Bobby, they call me Iceman. Here...uh let me get this cleared off," the boy moved to a corner of the room and began clearing off a variety of junk which they had piled on the spare bed. Pyro hadn't noticed Harry's entrance yet, Bobby chucked a shoe from the spare bed at his roommate.

"What the hell," Pyro complained ripping out his earphones. He stopped when he spotted Harry.

"Hello, Harry Potter," greeted Harry. He moved toward Bobby and helped remove the various things.

"Hey," said Pyro with a nod. "Toss me that would you Iceman," Pyro asked, as Bobby was about to drop a CD case on the floor. Bobby did so, it was likely accidental that the plastic case managed to smack the other young mutant in the head.

Once the bed was clear Bobby turned to Harry with a grin, "Welcome to Mutant High."

"Mutant High?" Harry asked with a twist of his neck.

"That 'school for gifted youngsters' is a mouthful. Got shortened to Mutant High long before we came here," Pyro explained.

Harry nodded taking a seat on the now clean bed. The pair of teenagers took in his appearance with raised eyebrows. Harry couldn't blame them, he was still dressed in the gray uniform from the mutant-proof facility. That, combined with the little blood that had trickled down from the neck slices courtesy of Wolverine and the scratch on his arm, left him looking more than a little peculiar.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Pyro asked somewhat rudely. Bobby cringed at the wording but didn't comment.

"Just broke out of jail," Harry said with a smirk.

"Cool," Pyro said in a low voice accompanied by a grin. He slouched back on his bed, apparently content with his new roommate.

Bobby was a little more unsure. "Eh...what for?" the boy asked ruffling his spiky hair.

"For being a Mutant," Harry answered honestly. The two teenagers exchanged glances.

"They can do that?" Bobby questioned.

"In London they can," Harry supplied. The boys seemed to relax some, obviously glad that the police wouldn't be knocking on the school doors anytime soon.

"That's why you talk funny," Pyro commented again.

Bobby seemed ready to apologize for his friend, but Harry just smiled. He rather liked Pyro's irreverent attitude. Bobby shook his head at the pair of them.

"So what can you do?" Pyro asked, "I can control fire." Pulling a lighter from his pocket, Pyro turned the small flame into a fireball. Harry twisted as a gust of cold air flew past him, putting the flames out and leaving Pyro's hand dusted in ice.

"Shit, that is freakin cold!" Pyro cursed rubbing his palms together.

"You know they said no more fireballs in here, if we burn one more bed we're sleeping on the floor," Iceman lectured.

"I can see why they put you in the same room," Harry commented wisely.

Both boys laughed, "Yeah Damage Control," Bobby said with a grin. Pryo grumbled how the room was never warm enough.

"What about you?" Bobby asked, ignoring the muttering firestarter.

"I can heal, and sorta shift my shape," Harry answered. He decided to downplay the previous glamour as much as he could. Most of these mutants seemed to have only one distinct ability, best not to stand out too much.

"That's pretty useful I guess, heal? Like Wolverine?" Bobby said with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Pretty much," was Harry's completely honest reply.

"Sounds just defensive to me," Pryo alleged with a little bit of a swagger. However the look on the mutant's face faded when Harry grinned a little wickedly.

"I make it count," voiced the wizard, a sense of confidence in his tone.

"Down Killer," Pyro said rolling his eyes.

From somewhere in the mansion a bell rung.

"Dinner time," announced Bobby. He turned to Harry.

"Where is the rest of your stuff? You may want to...you know... change." Bobby's well meant suggestion was punctuated by Pyro leaping from his bed, ruffling Bobby's hair as he went.

"Trust Mr. Hair Gel to worry about what you're wearing," he teased.

"This is what I have," Harry said, tapping his chest and throwing his hands out to indicate the gray uniform. Bobby frowned. Harry didn't see what the big deal was, and was going to say so, but Bobby had already turned and pulled a navy blue sweatshirt from a pile of what Harry hoped were clean clothes.

"Here, take this," the blonde mutant instructed, tossing the garment at the young wizard.

Harry caught it and felt the warm cloth appreciatively. "Thanks," he said with a nod. He zipped up the shirt, now hiding any blood on his clothes. It wasn't stylish, but at least he didn't look as much like he'd just escaped some mental institute.

-

After a firm look from Jean, Harry had loaded up a tray of food. The mutants seemed to eat in some sort of buffet style. Two long tables were heaped with food and teens would move between them picking out what they wanted to eat. One boy, to Harry's amazement, was walking back to his table balancing two trays packed with food. Harry hadn't imagined anyone could eat as much as his friend Ron or his cousin Dudley but that boy had them both beat. The reason for so much food soon became apparent when the same boy dashed across the room to retrieve his dessert, his movements were so fast he was nothing but a blur. Harry shook his head in amazement.

Bobby waved Harry over to his table. People shifted slightly, making room for the new addition to Mutant High. Harry sat his tray down with a nod of greeting for those present. He tried to focus on his food but he was more interested in the people around him, soon he left his plate alone and began to look around.

Beside Bobby was the same girl with white streaked hair that Harry had seen earlier. She seemed rather dainty, eating her meal with white gloves. Across from Harry was Pyro, and next to Pyro was another teenage boy. If indeed the word boy could possibly be applied. He was very broad shouldered and sat a good head taller than most people at the table. Beside the large man was a petite girl. She chatted with the large man animatedly, seemingly untroubled that the giant beside her hadn't said much. The girl had flaming red hair and spoke with an accent Harry could easily tag as Irish. Beside the girl with white striped hair was another girl with dark brown hair. She seemed busy eating, but would occasionally look up to glare at Pyro who was sneaking bites from her dessert.

"I'm Rogue," the girl with striped hair said, she seemed to have noticed his gaze among them.

"Harry," he greeted with a nod.

"So you're gonna be the new victim that has to put up with these two," she asked with a commiserating look.

"We're not that bad," Bobby complained.

Rogue merely smiled before sighing theatrically and muttering something like "Poor Marvin."

"That wasn't my fault," Argued Bobby. "Can I help it if he was afraid of both fire _and_ Ice."

"He wasn't afraid of them until Pyro nearly set him on fire and you froze him into a block of ice to put out the flames," the girl with dark hair said.

Bobby shrugged.

"Ouch!" Pyro complained when the dark haired girl quickly snapped back and harpooned him with her fork, ceasing the boy's pilfering.

"I'm Kitty," the girl greeted with a bubbly voice, she ignored the moaning mutant across from her.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said with a smile. The dark haired young woman seemed to sigh at Harry's words.

"Oh doesn't he have the most adorable accent," she cooed.

Harry felt oddly disturbed, "eh, thank you?"

"Yes, it's really quite _adorable_" Pyro said mimicking Kitty's tone.

"I'm Syren," the red haired girl said. "An while the English have been invading ma homeland for as many years as can be recalled. I'm willing to forgive ye this slight, and perhaps we'll be good friends some day." That was Syren's attempt at a short greeting. Harry merely nodded.

"Pytor, but call me Colossus," greeted the large man in a soft voice, a slight Russian accent attached to his words.

"So what do you do Harry," Rogue inquired. She had leaned forward, positioning her self close to Bobby, which the Iceman didn't seem to mind.

"He's a Hea-ber," Pyro expressed with a mouth full of food.

"Was I askin' you" Rogue replied, a disgusted look crossing her pretty face.

"I heal," Harry explained.

"Oh, like Wolverine. That's a nice one," the girl said, she smiled genuinely, obviously remembering something.

"Maybe you'll survive bunking with these two after all," Kitty added with a grin. The two boys she was speaking of decided to ignore her comment.

"You know I've been thinking...don't Harry and Wolverine look sort of alike?" Pryo speculated, his mouth now empty of food. Harry glanced at Logan who was eating at the staff table. They didn't really look alike. Both were of medium height, and Wolverine seemed to have the same messy dark hair that Harry struggled with.

"A little I guess," Rogue voiced pensively.

"Are you really Wolverine's bastard son?" Pyro didn' wait for an answer, "It's so obvious, right?" pronounced Pyro, a triumphant grin on his face.

Harry snorted.

"Are you really," Syren asked excitedly. "Rogue's told us about him o'course..."

Harry quickly cut her off before the Irish mutant could continue. "No. I'm not."

"Ya gotta be," Pyro argued. He snorted. "He'd make a great dad, a parent and a can opener all in one!"

"You'd never have to pay for a haircut, " Bobby added. Rogue frowned at the banter.

" Still...I hope your mom changed your diapers...just saying, one wrong move and snip snip." Pryo and the other men cringed.

"Now, y'all stop messin' with him," Rogue said firmly. "It's his first day here and you're already spreadin' gossip."

"You don't know it's gossip," corrected Pyro.

"I assure you he's not my father, both my parents have been dead for quite some time," Harry stated pleasantly. His tone was as light as theirs had been, sadly it seemed his words hadn't matched his tone. The table quieted instantly. Families were rarely brought up. It could be a tender subject for many young mutants. Hence, such discussions were usually held over until a student's second day. They hadn't realized how the easy teasing had approached the dangerous subject.

"How'd they die?" Syren asked, leaning forward a bit in her chair.

"Syren!" Kitty shouted, the condemning tone in her voice caused the redheaded mutant to bite her tongue and blush.

"It's okay," Harry said. His parent's deaths had become old aches, "They died when I was one, I grew up with my aunt and uncle."

"Oh," Kitty said. She and many of the others picked up their forks and started eating again. They munched on the food for a moment, subtly sending Harry apologetic looks, finally realizing that he wasn't the least bit upset with them. He couldn't fault their curiosity, it was, after all, one of his defining traits.

"So, when did you find out that you're a mutant," Bobby asked. By his tone Harry could tell the question was a return to a safer, more repetitive subject. Perhaps one they asked every new student.

Indeed, it was a standard question, one that resulted in students discussing shared experiences, giving them all a sense of solidarity. An older mutant had asked Bobby his first day, Bobby in particular was glad to continue the tradition.

Harry couldn't know that in the recent years much had been learned about how and why mutations developed. Mutations often emerged during an individual's teen years, for most, sometime between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, these powers usually first appearing during periods of stress or when emotions were running high. There were cases where the mutation was more evident earlier on. Scientists believed that the body needed more time to develop these mutations, some could begin as early as nine or ten, during the early stages of puberty. But in these cases of early development, it was more common for the mutations to be visually obvious. Such things as wings, tails, and skin color changes usually accompanied such early onset mutations. As previously stated, Harry didn't know any of this. He hadn't even known that mutations developed. He absorbed this information before thinking up a lie that would hopefully work. Deciding a dash of honesty might be the best method, Harry blurted out,

"Eleven." That had been an age Harry had learned he was "different" even if his difference was magical and not mutation.

"That soon?" the teenagers shared glances. "Don't think I've met anyone who found out so soon," Rouge said thoughtfully.

Harry cursed under his breath, he couldn't change it now.

"Huh, that is weird," agreed Harry. Once again his easy admission being used as a way to avoid further questions. Thankfully it worked.

"I was fourteen," Bobby explained. "My brother and I would get in fights, and every time we did it was as if the heat got turned off. My Mom kept calling the repairman to look at the furnace," Bobby's tale was funny and everyone laughed.

"I was fifteen," Kitty shared. "See I can become insubstantial," Harry watched as her hand slid through the table. Even in the magic world he'd never seen anything like that.

"Bloody great," he said with a smile.

Kitty flushed, "Well the first time it wasn't so great. I was at the mall, with some friends, and my friend Kelly stole a shirt. Well, I don't think she did it on purpose. We were all trying on tons of shirts trying to find one for a dance, and Kelly put on a pink shirt that looked kinda like the one she'd come in wearing, we'd all had quite a few moccachinos so it could have been an accident"

It was at this point that Pyro made gagging sounds.

Kitty glared and waved her fork in his direction. "Anyway, we were all busted and waiting in the Security office, even though it was only Kelly who had taken the shirt, and I was freaking out because I knew my mother would ground me for the rest of my life, even if it wasn't my shirt...and to make a long story short,"

"Too late," grumbled Pyro.

"I sort of slipped through the wall and out of the Mall Security office. Course everyone thought I'd skipped out on them and none of my friends would speak to me..." Kitty frowned.

"By far the lamest reason to be hauled away by security," intoned Pyro sagely.

"Well the rest of us aren't experts at getting thrown out of the mall," hissed Kitty through clenched teeth.

"It sort ov runs in the family," Colossus said with a shrug, his voice had thankfully interrupted the brewing argument between Pyro and Kitty. The large mutant didn't elaborate so Harry nodded as if his statement made all the sense in the world, as for all he knew it did.

"Me too!" Syren said happily, latching onto Colossus's arm. "Fourteen, I had these terrible headaches, then one day I lost my voice. Ma auntie was worried, sure and she knew my mother had been a mutant. So when my voice came back the next day strong enough to shatter glass, she knew what had happened. Called the Professor right off, he knew what to do," Syren grinned before turning back to eating.

Rogue's turn, "I can, umm, take energy...when people touch my skin. Didn't developed until I was sixteen... thankfully." She toyed with the gloves on her hand and didn't offer the story of how she had first learned about her mutation.

Pryo was the last at the table to speak. And he didn't. Rather the rough young man tucked into his dinner with enthusiasm. However, no one seemed to have expected him to tell his tale.

"Well, aren't you goin' to be telling us yer story?" Syren inquired. She had pretty blue eyes that looked into his green expectantly.

"Not...eh, not to much to tell." Harry quickly ran over the story he had made up during the plane ride over. He'd prepared it in case the teachers had asked but it would work for the students as well...he'd just need to tweak it a bit now that he knew mutations developed. He was currently rather thankful the Professor hadn't asked for the story earlier.

"Well, I lived with my aunt and uncle...who didn't really like things to be unusual." The teens shifted at this statement. "When I was eleven I eh, noticed that I healed pretty quick from things. Quicker than was usual. My relatives didn't like that much so I took off. Bout it really." Harry shrugged and averted his eyes.

What a sad attempt. There was no way that they'd believe this...was there? Harry chanced a glance upwards. The teenage mutants did look uncomfortable...but not disbelieving. Was this world so bad that it was plausible for an eleven-year-old boy to be kicked onto the streets?

No, it couldn't be. Could it?

"Uh, do we have a paper due on Monday, I forget," Pyro said. His question was an obvious attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence that had descended on them.

"Not until Tuesday," Kitty replied.

"Good, because I really didn't understand that Allied vs Axis thing...which one was Hitler?"

"Gosh John don't you ever pay attention in class?" Kitty demanded.

"Don't call me that," the young man complained darkly.

"What, John..._John, John, Johnny, John, John_..." Kitty sang the little tune under her breath and Pyro glared at her. Rouge and Bobby snickered.

"I don't understand why you don't like it," Bobby asked.

Pyro closed his eyes and gave a long suffering sigh. "So says the boy with a name like _Bobby_. These names are like our slave names, they were branded onto us by people who are trying to control us. You've got to be able to think for yourself," Pyro pounded his fist in a dramatic fashion, which Harry found amusing.

The other mutants around the table seemed to agree, if not as passionately.

"Anyway, I don't know why everyone bugs me about it," complained Pyro. "No one bothers _Marie._"

Rogue coughed. "I don't make a big stinkin' deal about it either," she said with a glare.

Harry ate while the conversation continued, soon shifting to discussions about classes. He didn't want to admit it but he was getting progressively more tired as the minutes passed. He had developed a slight headache behind his eyes which seemed to be trying to tell him that it was time for sleep. He wouldn't mind when he was back to his normal physical condition. With that in mind, Harry tucked into his food, determined to gain his health back as quickly as possible. He had actually been in pretty good shape before his capture. Not that he had paid it much mind at the time. It was more just a casual observation. He'd never quite understand why people body-built just to look good. Any muscle he had gained had been for necessity.

Fifth year had been the starting point, things had changed markedly fast after that year. Dumbledore had changed in some way, his eyes had twinkled less. He spoke to Harry more and he spoke to him differently. At first Harry hadn't been able to peg the change, it had been illusive, constantly moving forward than retreating. One night while speaking with his headmaster he had felt a deep rumbling in chest, and suddenly he knew what was different. The old man's eyes didn't twinkle whimsically around Harry anymore, he didn't speak to him with a comical voice. Harry realized with that deep rumbling, a sort of thrilling and falling, that he was no longer being treated like a child. Harry had been given a grown man's burden, the old man had come to see this.

And so it had changed swiftly, and yet Dumbledore's actions seemed to be hesitant jerky steps. Harry's time at Hogwarts changed. He was no longer a student earning an education, he was warrior learning the trades of survival. He was using his time in Hogwarts's sanctuary to his anvantage, before the security was spent.

Special training in dueling, muggle defense, and battlemagic had been incorporated into Harry's schedule, indeed had become his schedule. His teachers had been ex-aurors like Alastor Moody, as well as a few shifty characters that Harry wondered how Albus Dumbledore could know. Most of these men would come, teach Harry a skill, then move on. Days were long hard, and often times, secret. Harry was busy learning things he couldn't share with anyone, including his friends.

"_Where have you been mate?"_

"_Harry we never see you anymore?"_

"_Why won't you tell us what you've been doing."_

"_Just talk to us"_

But in the end it was his burden to bear, it had always been his burden

.

It had made a strange and somewhat lonely sixth year. Looking ahead, Harry knew that Seventh year was destined to be the same. But only a few days into June Voldemort had attacked, taking Harry with him. His friends had found themselves bereft, wistfully hoping that the stranger Harry had become would allow him to survive his ordeal. As the days dragged into weeks, their hope fractured.

They weren't the only ones. Although Harry didn't know it at the time, the boy-who-lived's capture (right from under Dumbledore's nose) had been the blow that had struck at the heart of the wizarding world. People whispered that the Dark Lord didn't fear the old headmaster anymore, and with Harry Potter captured...what would become of them? Harry, had he known, likely wouldn't have felt much pity for them. He was having a hard enough time himself at the moment. Locked in a room, unable to tell night from day, Deatheaters stumbling in for a bit of sport from time to time and constant scar headaches from Voldemort. The Dark Lord had been somewhat hesitant to directly attack Harry, the prophecy still lingering in his mind. And, whether it have been destiny or not, Harry had endured nineteen days of treatment that should have killed him. But didn't. When Voldemort had finally shown his snakeface, Harry had endured enough. He blew the dark bugger to kingdom come.

Harry jerked as a pair of hands gripped his shoulder. He looked up rapidly, a hex on his lips, only to meet the kind gaze of Jean Grey.

"I think you need some sleep," she said in an authoritative voice. She just smiled when Harry blinked heavily and nodded his head. She'd watched the young man from the staff table, his head sinking lower and lower into his chest.

Bobby and Pyro rose as well, following the young doctor and their new roommate. Harry's feet shuffled as they walked the halls back to their room, he paid little attention to the building this time.

When they reached the room, Jean turned to the two boys who had followed them. "Could one of you find some pajamas he could wear? We'll have to take you shopping sometime tomorrow."

Harry muttered something about not needing anything. Pyro dug through a drawer and pulled out a clean t-shirt and some boxer shorts. He handed them to the young Englishman who fiddled with them in his hands as if trying to figure out how they worked. Jean left, giving both boys a proud nod. They'd see that he was alright here.

Harry lifted his own shirt and removed it, stood for a moment trying to locate the right hole for the shirt he was holding. He turned when he heard a somewhat loud hiss. Bobby and Pyro were both staring at him with looks of shock and concern mingled with anger. Harry was confused for a moment.

"Your back..." Bobby swallowed uncomfortably.

"Oh," Harry remembered that it must look a sight. MacNair had gotten bored one day (night?) and had gotten a little exuberant with a conjured whip. The fact that Macnair could easily conjure a whip told Harry more about the man's social life than he had wanted to know.

Harry figured out the shirt and slid the material on, hiding the scars that marked him.

"Does...that hurt?" Bobby couldn't help but ask. It looked so wretchedly painful, the ice mutant couldn't imagine living through that.

"No," Harry said shaking his head. He remained still for a moment, his eyes shifting in Pyro's direction to take in his expression.

Bobby had chosen shock and concern. Pyro had chosen anger. "It looks like it was done with a belt," he noted with little emotion seeping into the words.

"Something like that," Harry admitted. Pyro's jaw set, his eyes flickered as if a dark rage burnt inside him. Harry decided to finish getting changed. The two boys left without any additional comment, which Harry was glad for as it allowed him to climb into his bed uninterrupted. He soaked into the mattress. Ahhh, now this was a bed. Soft, layers of blankets and piles of pillows. He almost wished he could have conjured a canopy. But then that would probably be too much like home.

Home. Harry smiled. Home was a world away. Homes were nice, they had their uses, but they also had their problems. Harry had found a home at Hogwarts, and he'd paid for it. He didn't really miss it. How eager was he to reclaim this home here?

Harry closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of knowing that he had an uninterrupted night ahead of him. There hadn't been a twinge from his scar, no Voldemort visions to trouble him tonight. And while his own life had been dark enough to inspire quite a few nightmares, Harry wasn't worried. He usually forgot all his dreams anyway.

-

Outside the room where Harry slept, two teenage boys stood in a hallway. Neither of them had liked what they saw. It was bringing up old memories for one and making the other wonder if this world was worth saving, not when there were such terrible people in it.

Still, there was something additional troubling Bobby and it took him a moment to identify it.

Turning to his friend and roommate, Iceman said, "But how?...if his power is healing...how does he have all those scars?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Burn it to the Ground

-

Eric Lensher sat in his plastic prison and was in a rather sour mood. His current lodgings weren't what upset him, although the food wasn't great. No, what really irritated him was how slow escape was coming, that would create insurmountable problems. Not that he doubted he'd escape. One drop of metal here or there, one day it'd slip through and he'd be out. But what would be happening in the mean time. Sadly Sabertooth and Toad had been killed at Liberty Island, Mystique in her cleverness had slipped away. That left his list of associates down to one. A rather pitiful number to start a war with, even with all of Mystique's uses.

Life was, after all, rather like a chess board. Or rather it was like a rigged chessboard. In chess there were rules. Each player started out with only so many pawns, knights, rooks, queens etc. If you lost a few pieces due to poor planning it was our own fault, you'd have to play with what was left to you. But as he'd said, life was rigged. His pieces had been rapidly diminished at that Liberty Island mess. And as if to grind salt in the wound, while he was locked away here Charles was in position to snatch up any powerful pieces he wanted. Cerebro made tracking and identifying mutants easy for the telapath and the man's wonderful safe little school provided him the perfect place to implant his ideals of equality and love of mankind.

He admired Charles his idealism, perhaps he'd enjoy it even more if it wasn't going to get them all killed. If history had taught them anything, mankind would always strike against what was different. And in the end history was only a story of winners and losers. The winners continuing on, spreading their progeny, and the losers being trampled in the mud. There was no history of people embracing differences, seeing how such differences could benefit them all. Mankind would never change.

Thus this vexing problem. Charles was probably, even now, filling those mutant heads with silly bedtime stories. Magneto, when he escaped, would have to start from scratch. A virtual battle of attrition trying to track down usable young mutants and turning them to his side, Charles and his people always standing as another option, them and their school. Eric frowned, thinking of all those children inside, Charles there with his pretty lies. Such a waste.

All he needed was to present a plausible wriggle of doubt in their young minds.

Ever since he had been captured, Magneto had been interviewed by various governmental departments, each trying to gain some of the information he contained. Such information would no doubt be a boon for whomever claimed it. And it was somewhat tempting to think of mentioning the mutant school to the right parties. Action would surely be taken. While this new president might be 'tolerant' not all the members of his military were. Some wouldn't hesitate to use force against what they considered a target.

He lay upon his bed, his eyes staring up through his clear wall. A plan was forming in his mind.

One that had little potential to harm him...not if certain precautions weren't taken. It was also a risk, and one that shouldn't be taken lightly. If actions were handled well it had the potential to benefit him. But information could have a long life. While he wanted to educate the mutants at Xavier's school, he wasn't willing to sacrifice the school in the process.

What he needed of course, was an idiot.

Some of the gun waving anti-mutant groups would be excellent. Sadly he didn't have contact with any of them at the moment, and while he was able to make some contact with Mystique, his correspondence was screened and he could hardy include such a complicated plan in the few lines his code allowed. His few vague directions had been difficult enough to manage. He needed a more handy idiot. One of his uniformed visitors would be perfect. But which one?

Eric Lensher lay on his bed, eyes closed, making a list of his regular visitors. Ranking them in order of their usefulness. At the same time he focused on what to tell and what to keep secret. His eyes still closed, Eric Lensher smiled. Even here, in this plastic bubble, Magneto still had the power to influence the world.

"Wakey, Wakey Lensher," growled a gruff voice.

"If it isn't Colonel Forrester," Magneto greeted warmly. How fortunate that the man at the top of his list would be the first visitor of the day. Magneto sat up and managed to look very solemn. "Colonel I've had a change of heart, I'd be delighted to help my country after all."

Time for the opening move. Be it a King's Gambit or a Ruy Lopez, the game was about to begin

-

It was a sunny morning, the weather had predicted chance of storms. But once agin it seems that the only one capable of controlling the weather was— well now that Harry thought about Storm could do that couldn't she. Either way, the sun had been up for a few hours and most of the Mutants had eaten, followed by gathering in the small rec room on the main floor of the house. The room had a TV, which was currently hosting some Saturday morning cartoons, the younger students had gathered around. The older teens were playing card games, chatting and a rare few were studying for some test they had coming up in Applied Mechanics. Apply mechanics to what, Harry didn't know.

"Harry you can't keep living in those same clothes, we have to go shopping," Jean stated quite clearly. She had swept through the room, stopping before Harry and placing her hands on her hips. Harry had been gazing out the window, once again dressed in the same gray, nondescript scrubs as yesterday. Jean seemed to find this extremely offensive. Harry agreed that under normal circumstance people might think his clothes to be a bit smelly but he'd charmed them to be clean. Jean still seemed appalled. Harry had decided to brush it off as a girl thing.

"If you want," he said with a soft grin which didn't reach his eyes. He didn't particularly like taking money from these mutants. Taking lodging, food, these didn't bother him. But taking actual money. I made him feel like some sort of con man, nicking money that didn't belong to him. He blamed his morals on the Durselys. Not that they had ever bothered to teach him right from wrong, but they had beaten it into his head that money spent on him was money wasted. Sadly it made him rather honest.

"Oooh! You're going to the mall!" Kitty said excitedly. Jean rolled her eyes. She'd forgotten; never say the M-word in a school full of bored teenagers. Other ears seemed to perk up, so much so that Jean wondered if supersonic hearing had become a common mutation among this generation.

That was how Kitty, Rogue, Bobby, Pyro, Colossus, Syren, and a girl named Sam (oddly strong), managed to go with Harry and Jean to the Mall. Jean had enlisted Scott as an ally, and it was the red shaded mutant that was currently driving the van they all rode in.

Not long after the van parked, Kitty and Sam leapt to their feet and rushed into the building chatting loudly. Syren and Colossus did similarly, the red haired girl skipping excitedly beside her much larger escort. Rogue had exited with Bobby, Pyro trailing after them. Harry was left to follow Jean and Scott as he looked around at the muggle mall.

The Somers Shopping Center was located on the outskirts of the town of Lincolndale. It wasn't very large as malls went. A sporting goods store, a few clothing shops, one rather out of date electronics store as well as a book store. A few restaurants and coffee stands were situated in the north of the building, another popular attraction was the arcade found near the food court. All and all it suited the teenagers of Lincolndale quite well. The students at Mutant High were fond of it too. Not so much because the shops were interesting but the few entertainments it offered provided a chance at escape, a way to venture in the 'normal' world. Despite how much the safety of Mutant High appealed to them, it was still nice to have a little diversion.

Jean lead Harry expertly through the small crowd of muggles that filled the mall. Every once and a while she'd pause and ask Harry if he liked _this_ store. Harry would look upward, and say,

"Yeah, looks fine," in an uninterested voice. He couldn't help it. He honestly didn't care.

Jean would then look at him sharply before going to another store, where the process would be repeated. Scott seemed to find the whole thing amusing, which Jean did not appreciate. Eventually Jean took the hint and lead Harry into a large department store. She seemed rather familiar with the place and quickly settled them all in the men's department.

"That's it, I wash my hands of you. Find your own clothes." She slumped in a chair, however as Harry moved into the racks of clothing he noticed her perk up and watch curiously.

Harry examined the area around him. He'd never actually chosen his own clothes from a muggle shop. He'd been drug along on a few occasions while Aunt Petunia tried to find clothes that would fit her precious Diddy Dinkums. Harry had been forced to endure many rants about how clothes merchants used such cheap material that tore (oddly enough always splitting the rear of Dudley's trousers) and that they really should carry larger children's sizes as the current sizes didn't provide for 'growing boys'. At the time Harry had wanted to comment that it wasn't really the manufacturer's fault, most boys grew upwards and not sideways but he had wisely kept silent.

Harry could almost hear his Aunt's voice echoing over the clothes racks now. He smiled as he chose a pair of jeans. She'd have thrown a fit if she knew he was buying _new _clothes with some _freak's_ money.

Harry meandered through the rows, choosing himself two pairs of jeans, three shirts in varying shades, the usual socks and grundies, and a pair of pajamas similar to the kind he had worn in Gryffindor. Feeling somewhat guilty, and terribly extravagant, Harry also found a pull-up sweatshirt, rather like the one Bobby had lent him the other night.

Harry hesitantly brought his purchases back to Jean and Scott who had been waiting. By the grim expression Scott wore and the pale lavender shirt Jean was holding, Harry could only assume what the older man had been forced to endure in his absence.

"I'm just saying you need to vary your color scheme more...oh, Harry, you were quick, find everything?" Jean smiled at him as he approached. Scott, in attempting a very dangerous slight of hand, tried switching the lavender shirt for a dark burgundy one.

Harry, feeling pity for his fellow male, did his best to distract her. "Yep, found everything I needed." He held up his selections.

Jean frowned. "That's all?" She stared at the pitifully few items with an unamused expression.

"Uh yeah?" Harry looked back at his choices, seemed good to him.

Jean grumbled to herself. "Just go, get out the pair of you. I'll just pick everything shall I." She grabbed Harry's items and stormed into the rows of clothing.

Harry looked somewhat concerned.

"Don't worry, she's been itching to take control from the get-go. She just doesn't want to admit it. _Doctor Jean Grey is far too intellectual to enjoy shopping_." Scott's voice became haughty before snorting and shaking his head. "That's a laugh. She's bought more clothes for people than anyone I've ever met." He patted the young man on the shoulder, yet the gesture didn't seem to rest any of Harry's concerns.

"No lavender!" Harry yelled to her.

Scott laughed. "Come on, let's go." He tugged Harry's arm.

"No pink either!" Harry added as he turned to leave. This evoked more laughter from the usually strait-laced mutant at his side.

-

Once having escaped the duty of shopping, Cyclops led Harry to a small coffee shop. It was one of the mutant's favorites, and his little escape when Jean embraced her desire for shopping. Even though the café was set in a mall, the owners had apparently tried to go for a more beatnik feel, leaving the walls a rough brick and the lights low. It was a popular place for people trying to be different. High schoolers with black lipstick, tattoos, vibrant hair, and the classic goatee and shades were a common sight. Cyclops's odd red glasses didn't even raise a single pieced eyebrow. If anything he looked almost too normal. That was the way the man liked it. Scott Summers wasn't ashamed of what he was, but even he had a part of his soul that longed for universal acceptance. He'd given up on the practicality of that dream many years ago, but that didn't stop him from enjoying pockets of it when he found it.

"What would you like?" Cyclops asked as he and Harry reached the counter.

"Oh...I don't have any...I'm fine," Harry stated swiftly.

"It's on me," the older man assured him.

"Well, a tea would be nice, if they have it," Harry asked, hiding the hesitation he felt. Once again he felt like a heel for taking these people's money. In a few days he'd be going home. Or at least to this world's wizarding world. He shouldn't be accepting their charity. They were helping him because they thought he was one of them, another mutant who had been persecuted by the government.

Harry sighed. The room smelled very good, thus Harry remained silent and accepted the tea that Cyclops offered.

The two moved to a seat, Harry silently stewing in guilt. I was just a bloody cup of tea. Harry really wished he could cut out the voice in his head that kept saying that he was lying prick.

"Don't worry about it Harry," Cyclops said warmly.

Harry looked up, "Uh worrying about what?"

"About taking some money from the school. Lots of mutants do, more than half show up with no way to pay for...well anything." Scott's reassurance did nothing to allay Harry's feeling of guilt. Still, as Harry took a sip of his tea, he vowed he'd pay them back. With this decision Harry felt much better and finally the tense feeling in his stomach uncoiled.

Perhaps his internal decision was more obvious than he'd have thought, as Scott nodded his head approvingly. "Lots of Mutants pay us back in the end. Some go out and get really good jobs, always manage to send a little back. I was in the same year as this one kid. He went out and started this company, makes millions. He gives a lot back, everyone's grateful for their years at Mutant High."

"You went to school here too?" Harry asked.

"Sure did, Jean, Storm and I were some of the Professor's earliest students. After we graduated, we all went out in the world and tried different things for awhile, Jean even went to medical school, but we all came back in the end. Wanted to help the next generation, and with so much anti-mutant sentiment today...well we need even more help," Scott's brow furrowed as he considered how much darker the world seemed. Mutant registration acts, Mutant experimentation, Mutant villains.

Scott shook his head. "Back then money was a little more tight. Not many other people could contribute, there was this rumor that the Professor and Magneto had won the deed to the house and the start up money by gambling, probably cheating."

Harry grinned at that. He imagined with the professor's mental affinity he would be an excellent poker player.

"Who is Magneto?" Harry asked, wondering how this mutant's skill would lend itself to gambling.

Scott shifted awkwardly and took a sip of his coffee. "Magneto is a mutant who helped the Professor found the school. He can manipulate metal by creating magnetic fields. However, he had very different ideas about role mutants should have in this world." Cyclops shifted his gaze to Harry and noticed that the young man was listening closely, a slight frown on his face.

"Go on," Harry said expectantly. He couldn't help the way his eyes narrowed as he took in Scott's uncomfortable stance. Obviously Magneto wasn't a popular subject.

Scott sipped his coffee. It was a little strange Harry hadn't heard mention of Magneto. Still he wasn't about to brush the young man off, better not to hear about Magneto from the wrong sources.

"He feels that a war is brewing between men and mutants, perhaps that's why he and his associates have tried to hit a first strike against humankind. The Liberty Island incident." Scott gestured at the reference and Harry quickly nodded with a knowing look. He wished he had some sort of clue as to what he was agreeing to know.

Scott thankfully didn't pick up on Harry's inner confusion. "That is one of the reasons that the Professor created the X-men, not only to protect us against humans but to protect humans from Magneto and others like him." Scott took another sip of his coffee. His mind unwillingly falling into speculation about things to come.

Scott knew that there were people in this world who hated him, merely for how he was born. Perhaps he had been living with the Professor for too long, or maybe it was his own nature, but he never doubted that protecting mankind was the right thing to do. He couldn't quite understand how Magneto thought he was helping mutants, his actions against humanity were only driving more of a wedge between the two groups. It would doubtlessly hurt mutants more in the long run. And that was something that Cyclops would not allow. He would never willingly let his fellow mutants be hurt by anyone. Perhaps that was the reason, more than anything, that had lead him to return to Xavier's school and adopt the role of teacher and fighter.

But the young teacher wasn't foolish. His shaded eyes rested on the equally silent and thoughtful young man before him. Cyclops knew his life had been easier as the Professor had found him early on. He was a mutant, so his life hadn't been great, but he had known worse childhoods. Indeed, quite a few students in the school had suffered under the mistreatment of humans. Judging by Jean's silence the previous evening and the somewhat maternal interest she had taken in the young man, Scott could guess that Harry had been one such case. For young people who had been wronged by society, Magneto's offer was enticing. Thankfully the man was locked away in a plastic prison at the moment. Yet the Professor wasn't sure that even that would contain him for long. With this in mind, Scott feared it wouldn't be long before the man would approach the Professor's pupils, offering them the chance for vengeance that some craved. Would Harry be one such young man?

Harry was unaware of Scott's evaluating eye. The story Cyclops had spun had been all too familiar. Harry knew about another school, founded by four wizards. One had left, filled with the idea that humans could not be trusted. That decision had created centuries of turmoil. Harry had witnessed the violence such disagreements could have firsthand. His frown deepened. This certainly wasn't what he had signed up for. He'd left his world to leave just this sort of struggle behind, find somewhere quiet. He had no desire to find his way into another war about protecting muggles. The government being curious about mutants was one thing, fighting other people with powers could make things messy. Harry was done with messy.

Harry fought the temptation to just apparate away from Scott and these other mutants. He could just pop away, turn his back on the whole situation. It wasn't his war. These weren't even his people. He had no obligations to stay and help them. These thoughts calmed his jumpy nerves for a moment.

Also, no one was asking him for help. As far as they were concerned he was just another broken teenager that they had rescued. They couldn't stop him from leaving, they didn't even know that he could leave whenever he wanted. And he certainly wasn't these peoples' 'Chosen One'. Harry let these logical thoughts move across his conscious mind, allowing them to ease his anxiety.

The situation didn't have to change. The school seemed to be perfectly safe for the moment. He could still stay there, build up his strength, learn more about the mutant world, then find his way home to the magical world. Nothing had to change, this mutant war was just another variable in an already confusing world. Why should his plans change?

Having reached this decision, Harry took another sip of his tea. It had grown cold.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, glad that his voice sounded normal.

"Little after twelve, we should go meet up with the others in the food court." Scott got up and tossed his own cup in the garbage, Harry did likewise.

-

It wasn't difficult to find their group. Pryo and Kitty were fighting again. Those two seemed unable to sit together for more than a minute before squabbling about something. Kitty's friend Sam managed to pry the two apart quite easily.

"We're in a public place, people are staring," the blonde said firmly. This seemed to mollify Kitty who blushed and began examining her plate. Pyro wasn't quite so deterred. He merely winked at a group of girls nearby, who giggled and began examining their own plates.

"You find whatever it was you all _needed_ to come for," Scott asked, addressing the lot of them.

Heads nodded.

"Have you seen Dr. Grey," he asked them.

"Umm..." Kitty looked up, "Last time I saw her she was lugging quite a few shopping bags towards the bookstore."

Scott sighed. Deciding it was better to find her now and avert any post-shopping rage, he left to find his significant other.

"Get yourself some lunch," Cyclops said to Harry, handing the boy some money before leaving. "And I'd get a lot if I were you, Jean will only force you to get more if she isn't happy."

Harry rolled his eyes before finding a restaurant that sold sandwiches and chips. He quickly purchased himself a lunch and settled among the other teenagers. Many of who were examining any purchases they had acquired.

"They had these cute little tops for sale, so I bought one. Rogue you should buy one too!" urged Kitty.

Rogue examined the purple shirt with a sparkly cat on it. She cringed.

"Uh, maybe another time," she said kindly. Bobby grinned at her and she glared at him.

"I also went to the bookstore, the book I ordered finally came in." Kitty then lifted another bag, clutching it to her chest in an adoring way.

Harry coughed, managing to swallow the chunk of sandwich that had lodged in his throat. He really hadn't pictured the fluffy Kitty, who reminded him vividly of Lavender, as the sort of girl who anxiously awaited books. Once again his curiosity got the better of him.

"Eh, what sort of book is it?"

The others at the table turned in his direction and glared. Kitty, however seemed overjoyed that someone was interested in her purchase.

"It's the new book by Dr. Wallace Fisher, based on the paper he wrote for_ Science Minds_. He develops his theory on Quantum Physics, and outlines possible uses for some of his more precise calculations. When I read his paper I thought it was well thought out but needed to be developed more," Kitty's bubbly voice made the whole statement seem rather surreal.

"Eh...Quantum Physics?"

More glares, accompanied by a few groans.

"Oh it's the most wonderful field of study. You see formal Newtonian Physics can only calculate large bodies of data, like in larger scaled energy transformations, or the distances of planets and things like that. Quantum physics delves into a smaller scale, calculating things on a subatomic level after the point where the common laws of physics begin to deteriorate– " Kitty paused and seemed to note Harry's confused expression.

"Uh...I haven't been to school since I was eleven," Harry explained while shaking the fuzz from his head.

Kitty's eyes opened wide. "Oh. Well let me see if I can simplify it. It calculates things on a small scale, like electrons, protons, and neutrons. Quantum physics even describes the particles which make these particles! It predicts behavior, it really is a form of organized chaos– "

"Kitty," Rogue said interrupting the flow of progressively more confusing thought. "Uh, what store did you get that shirt again?" Rogue asked.

"Oh do you want one after all! It's at a new store next to the jewelry store. If you go get one I'll go with you. They had some cute little lip glosses, and I think I want that cotton candy one."

Harry sighed and glanced at Pryo.

"Scary as hell isn't it," commented the young mutant.

Harry nodded.

-

Scott had managed to locate Jean and bring her to the food court for lunch. The teenagers had nearly finished and most were drifting from the tables to the arcade. Pyro and Bobby were constantly competing for the high score in one fighting game. This week Pyro had the high spot and Bobby was spending quite a few quarters to try and alter that. Rogue and Syren were racing each other in some car game. It looked rather fun, and by the skill Harry observed, staying on the road wasn't the main object of the game. Colossus was eating another hamburger while Kitty and Sam were talking, the large boy didn't seem to be paying much attention to their conversation by the look of it.

Harry was observing all this. While his muggle education was lacking, so was his knowledge of muggle culture. After the age of eleven, the only exposure Harry had to muggle things was from what he observed at the Durselys. They never took him anywhere, preferring to lock him in his room when they went out. Harry had never minded because he'd been happy to leave the muggle world behind, he had the magical world. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd missed out on some things. The idea of having the best of both worlds was a phrase that had increased meaning for a dimension leaping Harry Potter.

After some complaining Jean and Scott managed to get all the students back in the van. Most of them hadn't particularly wanted to stay as they were quite finished shopping, but still appearances had to be kept up. Harry had followed the others, glancing in the bags Jean had given him. He admitted that he opened the first one with some hesitation. He bloody well wasn't going to be wandering around for the next few days dressed like some flowering fool. He didn't care if they did discover a 'new mutation' he'd charm any lavender clothes to a more suitable shade. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be an issue. Jean had obviously used three shirts he had chosen as a template. Thus providing him with a wardrobe mostly in colors of green, gray, blue, black and a dark gryffindor red. Harry would never need all these clothes, but he was still pleased with the result. He'd politely forget about the yellow button-down shirt she'd thrown in. Perhaps Bobby would wear it.

Still Harry wasn't able to keep his new clothes secret for long, the girls and a few of the boys quickly tugged them out of their sacks and began assessing them on some level of 'coolness' that Harry was unfamiliar with. Still, when in Rome.

-

Scott glanced at the teens in the backseat. They were all busy making Harry feel at home. A mixture of complimenting and teasing which you could see made the young man feel accepted. It was a well-rehearsed attitude, but not an insincere one. Many of these children could remember their own first days. New students were, after all, a rather common occurrence. And not all coming from the best of circumstances. Thus, unlike the social competitiveness that most high schools housed, Mutant High adopted a more caring approach. It was already putting the somewhat quiet Harry at ease.

"He seems to be fitting in well," Jean said approvingly. Her voice was quiet enough not to draw attention from the students in the back.

"Yeah. Little quiet I suppose, but rooming with Bobby and Pyro they are bound to break him of that habit. Probably too soon." Scott's comment made Jean purse her lips.

There was something about Harry. He inspired her concern and pity, but another part of her brain seemed to pick up on little inconsistencies. There was also an odd sense of confidence about the boy, which based on her care of abused children and teenagers didn't quite match the scars he bore. He seemed to refuse to cower before any sense of power, alright perhaps that made sense, but it was the attitude with which he did it. Not cocky or rebellious. She'd seen her share of young men bent on taking on the world. Harry wasn't like that. He walked as if he had _already_ taken on the world, and was now quite content to live quietly. It was an old man's attitude, strange on Harry's young face. If that made any sense. Yes he was certainly a mystery, and one she knew the Professor wanted to solve.

"I told him about Magneto. I was a little surprised that he hadn't already heard about him. Because of so many foreign dignitaries at Liberty Island the news spread throughout the world...sadly along with the message that 'dangerous mutants were plotting against world leaders' or some other pack of lies." Scott's voice leaked frustration. Jean was used to his somewhat guarded tone and could easily interpret.

"What did he say about him?" she asked curiously. They knew so little about this young man.

"Not much...just got really quiet." Their eyes met for a moment, each sharing a look of guarded concern.

Harry Potter was mystery. Sadly they didn't live in a time when mysteries could be left alone.

-

The day of shopping had passed. Once again Harry found himself amused and soothed by the comfort he was finding here at Mutant High. He wouldn't know it, but he was reacting in a way that muggle psychologist might link to a theory on the hierarchy of need. Being cut off from even the most basic necessities had forced Harry to view the world in a little different way. In the past, it might have been a good day if he spent time with his friends, or perhaps won some sort of quidditch game. Now a good day was one where he had enough food to eat. So, despite all the issues he'd met, most of Harry's days had been good days. It's amazing how changing your expectations can change your perspective. But perhaps, just perhaps, he was slipping out of his survivalist mentality. He wasn't certain yet. Simply the fact that he had realized this aspect of his recent actions was encouraging.

So when he went to sleep that night he had his worries, like everyone does. But he felt rather content. He was filled with this odd thought that perhaps things would work out better this time. That this world, despite its many dangers, would be a more welcoming peaceful world. It was hard not think this way after spending a day with people who seemed to care about him being there, spending time with people who, oddly enough, accepted him.

No too far into the future, he would realize what an idiot he was. But he didn't know that, and so he fell asleep quite easily.

Later, Harry wouldn't be able to pinpoint what had woken him from his sleep. He didn't remember his dreams anymore. He'd heard once that the mind will do whatever it can to protect its host, and perhaps Harry had suffered through enough terrible dreams. He didn't dream. So it wasn't a nightmare that woke him.

Something woke him. He sat up in bed and a spell was out his lips before he could even see properly.

"Stupefy," the stunning spell caused the room to flash red for a moment. The harsh light highlighting the two tall men poised at the room's entrance. Harry's hands flashed another red spell and in a show of amazing coordination both figures dropped to the floor at the same time. Harry ignored them and jumped to his feet. He flipped the light switch near the door and stared down at the men he had stunned.

He half expected it to be Bobby and Pyro, or maybe even Wolverine. This seemed like a classic case of overreaction. One too many a 'Constant Vigilance' pounded into his head.

He should have known better. Ol' Mad-Eye had never been wrong yet. Laying at Harry's feet were two men wearing an odd collection of muggle battle gear. They were dressed in black with think chest plates and commando boots. Straps crisscrossed their chests, likely holding spare ammunition for the machine guns still clutched in their hands. Harry kicked the weapons away. They were also wearing some shiny helmets, made of metal that looked rather futuristic.

"What's goin' on," Pyro grumbled. The Mutant squinted at the light blaring down. Bobby stirred in the other bed.

"Harry?" the ice mutant asked. Bobby's blue eyes widened when he took in the scene before him. Harry stood over two strange men, his green eyes gazing back with an alertness Bobby hadn't seen before.

"Woah!" Pyro said, he fumbled under his pillow, withdrawing his lighter. He fiddled with it for a moment and soon clutched a fireball. He pointed it at the two men, a harsh look covering his features. "How'd they get in here?" he asked.

"I doubt they're alone," Harry commented.

Bobby's eyes bugged. "Rogue, and the others...we've got to..." Iceman floundered for the words to express what they needed to do. The professor never wanted the students involved with anything dangerous, he left that up to the X-men. Bobby listened, hoping for sounds of battle. All was quiet.

"Let's go," Harry instructed. He flipped off the light as he left, both boys following behind him. Pyro hadn't extinguished the fireball and it cast an odd flickering light as the boys walked along the hallway.

"What did you grab that for?" Bobby asked in a hushed voice. He glared at Pyro who had picked up one of the machine guns and was looking at it, he used his free hand to try and grip the gun his finger near the trigger.

"What do you think I grabbed it for?" argued Pyro.

"That's just gonna cause more trouble," Bobby warned gravely.

"They got guns, we got guns. Seems fair to me." Pyro moved past his friend and stood beside Harry, raising his lit hand aloft to let the light travel further. Harry ignored the gun, Pyro had a point. Hopefully they wouldn't need to fire any shots. Particularly as he doubted any of them know how to use it, better have shield charms ready. Come to think of that, they probably didn't work against muggle guns.

As they moved, ducking their heads into each room as they past, all of them were empty. Seeing as their room was the last in that corridor, Harry wasn't particularly surprised.

"Shh..." Harry shushed them as they neared the junction with the girl's dorms. Heavy footfalls were audible. Harry and the boys ducked into an empty room, Pyro quickly dousing the fireball, leaving them in darkness. They watched as two men, dressed in similar army gear, moved down the hall. A couple girls were huddled between them. Harry didn't recognize either. They sniffled nervously, Harry realized why when he spotted a third soldier carrying the small body of a girl with vivid green hair.

"Greeny," Bobby said softly, his voice a painful hush. "Is she...?"

Harry shook his head. "She's still breathing," he claimed. Bobby heaved a sigh of relief when he noted the steady rise and fall of the girl's chest.

"They got Till and Micro too. They can't fight back..." Pryo growled. He bit his lip and his hand holding the machine gun raised slowly.

"Not yet," Harry instructed. He watched the three girls carefully, they couldn't be older than fourteen and based on Pyro's words, they didn't have the sort of powers that were of the offensive verity. If they attacked now, those soldiers would open fire, likely killing the two girls.

Also where were the others? The soldiers seemed to be taking the girls somewhere.

"Let's follow them," Harry instructed.

"Follow, what the hell, I say we stop them now!" Pyro said a little louder than was safe.

Harry grabbed the collar of the boy's t-shirt and tugged hard. "Shut it. They'll kill them if we spook them now. They must be collecting them all. Bad guy tactic 101. Get everybody together, get them scared, threaten people and try and get what you want."

"How do you know they want something?" Bobby asked. Pyro was still glaring at Harry but Bobby looked thoughtful.

"Because they didn't kill us all right away," Harry said quietly, looking down.

The two boys shifted uncomfortably.

"Let's go," Bobby said. The three moved as slowly and as quietly as possible. Soon they lost sight of the soldiers and instead continued in the general direction they had headed in. Everyone was quiet, their eyes and ears actively searching for a sign of anyone else.

Suddenly a piercing scream, more like the yell of a banshee than a human, ripped through the air. The three teenagers clapped their hands to their ears, trying to block the noise that was slowly wearing at their eardrums. A string of gunfire burst out, and the scream was cut short. Harry took a deep breath. They had all wanted the noise to stop but now a sort of terror entered their chests at the sound of the unnatural silence.

"That was Syren," Bobby said softly.

"Sounded like it was from the entrance hall," Pyro replied quickly, his face a little paler.

There was no discussion as the three boys broke into a run, their bare feet slapping against the wood floor as they ran. Harry was only a step behind as the boys lead the way. However, soon Harry didn't need the guides. A light shone up ahead, the only light in the old mansion so far. The trio skidded to a halt, Harry holding out his hands to stop them from going any closer. Hesitantly the wizard peeked around a corner.

The entrance hall was a rather grand looking room. Harry imagined the mansion must once have been some fine home, meant to impress the wealthy. The long hallway was wide and paneled with rich wood. The hall ran fifteen meters before widening before two sets of stairs. The stairs lead upwards, meeting at a landing that overlooked the hall below. The landing itself connected to two corridors, of which Harry, Pyro and Bobby were hiding in the shadows from the left.

Pressed against the wall of the corridor, the two mutants were almost invisible. Harry's face popped into view a moment, staring out only to quickly duck back. It was impossible to see down into the hall from their current position. But Harry could easily hear hushed voices and the occasional stomp of a military issue boot. It was safe to say that they had found the others, as well as a battalion of soldiers. Harry's shadowed gaze also caught sight of another soldier, stationed as a lookout on the stairs across from them. The man was in a perfect position to see them if they approached, however for the moment at least the guard seemed preoccupied with whatever was happening below.

Midway between the landing was a couch that was leaning against the railing. Harry's eyes flickered to the guard again before going down on his knees and skidding behind the couch.

Harry took a breath and looked downward into the entrance hall proper. Two thumps beside him alerted him of the other two mutants' presence. Harry quirked his head back and shot them a hard look.

"He wasn't lookin," explained Pyro in a hushed voice. Harry said nothing, only hoping they were right.

The three squirmed a bit, silently positioning themselves in a way that they could see what was happening below. They had frozen for a moment when the guard on the stairway moved. No one breathed while the man climbed the stairs. Thankfully the guard seemed to be looking for something in the hallway on the other side of the landing. The boys breathed a sigh of relief when the soldier disappeared from sight and into the shadows. Anywhere away from them was fine.

Harry finally managed to take in the scene below him.

It wasn't pretty. In one corner were a few limp bodies of students, Harry hoped that the guards standing over them were a sign that they were only unconscious. The professors had been isolated from the students. Professor Xavier had been pulled out from his chair and laid sprawled on the floor, looking up at what was occurring. Most of the students had been forced to their knees, their eyes wide in horror.

"No, please let me," Jean struggled against the soldiers. She was one of the few people on her feet but her powers were seemingly forgotten as she tried to get past them. One man knocked her back, she fell to the floor hard but immediately tried to get up, struggling to get towards the one form that wasn't being guarded.

Sprawled in the center of the hall, her red hair spread out like a fan, Syren struggled to breathe. There was a wet gasping sound that seemed terribly loud. The girl's pink nightgown had become saturated in blood. The soldiers seemed to be paying her little mind. One man seemed to have had enough with Jean's concern. With a quick jerk the man's riffle butted down, striking the doctor on the forehead, she dropped to the ground, her eyes blinking as she tried to remain conscious.

"Jean!" Cyclops yelled. He made to move but a glance from the professor kept him in place.

A low growl came from Pryo's throat but both boys seemed somewhat frozen by what they saw before them.

"Keep your people in check, Professor," a broad man, apparently the person in charge, announced to the crowd. "You've lost one mutant. I assure you, if we see anything the slightest off my men are fully sanctioned to fire into your students." The man's voice was oddly light as he said this, as if he hadn't just threatened to shoot a bunch of unarmed schoolchildren.

"No one needs to get hurt," the Professor placated. His voice was as calm as ever, even from his place on the ground.

"Yes, no one _needs_ to get hurt," mocked the officer.

"Why isn't the Professor scrambling their brains?" demanded Pryo as loudly as he dared.

Bobby raised a finger to his lips, glaring at the fire controlling mutant. With a jerk of his head Iceman indicated the guard who had just reemerged from the hallways across from them. They froze as the man neared their hiding spot. Bobby gave Pyro another glare, as if this was all his fault. Harry was ready with a stunning spell, but he really hoped he wouldn't have to use it. That was all they needed, all those armed soldiers looking up here.

Still, there was something different about this man's walk. Harry, having spent the last few days amid British soldiers, had grown used to the stiff military movements...this man seemed to strut. Harry didn't know why but it made him pause as the man approached them. Pryo had readied a fireball.

"Put that out," the soldier grunted, an annoyed tone to his voice.

"Wolverine?" Harry asked.

The silver helmet nodded, "Who else would it be?" Logan shifted his gaze subtly, looking at the sight below before ducking down next to the others.

"Okay, now are we gonna go..." Pyro lifted the gun into a storm trooper posture.

Wolverine rolled his eyes and pulled the weapon from the younger man's grasp. "Where'd you get that?" the Canadian man asked. He looked at it closely in the dim light.

"We got it from them," Bobby explained as Pyro was busy frowning at Wolverine.

Wolverine did not seem to like what he saw. "The safeties been removed, this has a finger touch trigger. Not safe." Having said that Wolverine stuck the gun into the back of his trousers. Harry didn't think that was quite safe either, but remained silent.

Logan gazed below, he frowned. "Why isn't the Professor controlling their minds?" he asked.

"Yeah, just what I asked!" Pryo said through clenched teeth.

Harry shrugged, he had no idea. Bobby on the other hand narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Those helmets...Rogue mentioned that Magneto had a helmet that could keep the Professor out...do you think?" Bobby looked up and found Wolverine nodding his head.

"Now that I think about it, they do look like his headgear, and I think he still had it on when he was turned over to the police," Wolverine strained his memory trying to remember. He'd been rather out of it, suffering from blood loss and barely aware of boarding the X-jet let alone whether Magneto still had his unusual outfit on.

Harry now took notice of the soldier's helmets. He hadn't paid it much mind before. Sure it looked a little bizarre, but for all he knew it was standard issue in this world. The helmets themselves were made of a dark colored metal, indented in some sort of pattern. They weren't strapped on, but rather crammed around the skull almost like the armor of old.

Harry wondered, if all the helmets were removed at the same time...maybe the professor's mutated legillamancy might be able to stop the soldiers from firing. It seemed logical, so logical that Harry had to wonder why they hadn't already done it. Jean could move things with her mind after all. Harry looked down and noticed the red haired professor was still laying on her back, staring at the ceiling in a dazed way. Maybe they'd been waiting for the right moment, and with Jean out of it... Or maybe it was all hopeless and the Professor couldn't control so many minds and certainly not quickly enough to save lives.

Harry simply didn't know what was possible in this world. He was out of his depth. Yet as his eyes lingered on the scene below, he caught sight of Syren and the dark blood starting to stain the floor surrounding her. There had to be something he could do.

'Professor?' Harry asked focusing on his own pathetic attempts at legillamancy. Once again he was reminded he should have studied the mental arts more. Sometimes he thought he hadn't merely to spite Snape.

'Yes? Who is this?' The Professor's voice echoed in his mind. Harry shuddered at the strength surrounding it. There was a great deal of mental power behind that voice. Harry strengthened his mental walls as he concentrated on his reply.

'Doesn't matter now. If I can remove all the helmets, could you get them before others get hurt?' Harry put as much energy into that reply as he could manage. He still worried it might not make it completely. Harry usually managed better with eye-contact. He had been told his other attempts came out rather garbled. Actually his teacher at the time had called him a "sissy shited mental mage who didn't deserve to learn the mental arts". Yeah, Harry didn't like Legillamense.

The silence stretched on for a moment. Harry hoped that the Professor would trust him. His mental communicating abilities weren't steady enough for explanations. The only other choice would be to allow the mutant entrance into Harry's mind. Which wouldn't be happening. Harry hoped the man's concern for his students would waylay any paranoia about the aider.

'Yes' boomed a firm mental voice. Harry almost felt like covering his ears at the strength behind the voice even though he hadn't in actuality 'heard' it.

Harry glanced around him. Bobby and Pyro were biting their lips and gazing below them with obvious concern. Wolverine's eyes were flickering around the room, he seemed to be counting the men. Harry had a feeling that the mutant man was developing some strategy. Harry soon found himself mimicking Wolverine, his own green eyes accounting for the men below.

'NOW' Harry sent before whispering as spell. "Accio helmets" The summoning charm was invisible, and also, depending on the nearness of the object and the force behind the spell, allowed objects to move at the same time. Thus, once again, a simple summoning charm proved to be very useful. Harry watched with little remorse as the metal helmets were ripped from the solider's heads.

The men seemed to be startled for only a millisecond before their faces became slack. Their bodies stood limply, arms hanging at their sides.

Harry let out a low whistle of appreciation as he viewed the Professor's mutation in action. He doubted even someone as proficient at Legillamancy as Voldemort could duplicate what the Professor had managed to do. Harry once again realized that he didn't quite know what mutation was and what it was capable of.

It took a moment for the students below to realize that the threat had been neutralized. The professors had been a little quicker. Scott had already rushed to Jean's side and had gently raised her to a sitting position. Jean's eyes were closed and look of pain crossed her face, but she prodded Cyclops for a hand up. The male professor looked a little hesitant about it, but eventually helped Jean rise drunkenly to her feet. The red haired mutant staggered toward Syren, dropping to her knees beside the young girl.

Around the room other young mutants gathered themselves. A few had fetched the Professor's chair and he had reclaimed his ability for movement. Others had moved toward the unconscious muntants, shaking their fellow students as they tried to awaken them. Some of the younger students huddled together with tears of relief and fear. Some girls, likely Syren's friends or roommates stood statue like, tears dripping down their cheeks as they watched the young Irish mutant's struggle.

"Give me that," Jean snapped as she tugged loose a robe one of the girls was wearing. Jean hesitated only a moment before applying pressure to the wounds that must have spread across Syren's chest and abdomen.

Syren's voice stirred to life for a moment. She squealed painfully, her face crinkling in agony. Still despite the loud noise, there was a weakness in her voice that caused even more of the students to sob. The young mutant's voice lacked the power it had demonstrated only moments ago. When the noise stopped Syren's body went still.

A few of the other mutants sobbed louder, obviously thinking that Syren had died before their eyes. Still Harry continued to watch Jean as the young doctor continued to fight the flowing blood. Harry nodded knowing that Syren had only slipped into unconsciousness, a place where the pain could not reach her. The more he watched, however, the more Harry began to fear what he was seeing. Jean's white pajama pants soaked up the blood as she kneeled by the young girl, she applied pressure, barking orders to Cyclops about a medical bag, yet all the while the woman's eyes flickered dangerously. Her actions all seemed a second too slow, Harry recognized the doctor's own personal struggle to avoid sinking into oblivion. Harry knew it was only her determination to save Syren that kept her conscious.

"Jean?" Charles asked softly, rolling up beside her.

"Not now...I have to stop the bleeding...it must have punctured her lung...I...Professor the students shouldn't see this," Jean's frazzled voice emerged from her body but otherwise she paid no mind to anything else around her.

When Jean mentioned 'punctured lung' Harry's mind reeled. For a moment he was back in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Lying in his bed as Poppy puttered around, taking him to task for training 'so roughly' with Dumbledore's 'dangerous tutors'. Sword and knife fighting for agility had been the subject at the time. A slender man with thin scars had been his teacher, and the man thought that a few slices was a positive learning experience. Harry had gotten a little cocky, his attitude had been readjusted by a sword through the chest. Poppy had quickly repaired the damage but afterwards tormented him with endless lectures on how _she'd_ run Hogwarts. Afterwards she'd taught him the spell used to repair his body, if only because he was so 'injury prone'.

Harry would later have wished he was the sort of person who thought things through. He would wish that he was sort of person who understood the need for secrecy and the perhaps more importantly the fact that sometimes people have to die for secrets to remain secret. But that simply wasn't Harry. He had never been the sort of man who could hold steady when someone else's life blood was being spilled. Not if he could save them.

Harry swung a leg over the railing.

"What are you doing?" Pryo enquired with a raised brow.

Harry didn't bother to answer as the other leg followed the first. He dropped down to the entryway. His bare feet smacked against the wood, causing the students near him to duck back in fear. Harry barely noticed, his knees bending on impact, his body springing forward to drop beside Jean.

"Harry?" Jean said in confusion and a little exasperation.

"Let me," Harry argued. He positioned himself over Syren, tugging the sodden robe off her body.

"No! Stop!" Jean moaned and tried to push Harry away, her hands grabbing the robe ready to resume pressure.

Harry tried to be polite as he continued elbowing her away. Harry paused for a moment to view the three holes in Syren's nightgown. He managed to feel some relief, oddly. He had expected more wounds. Still the blood continued to flow as he watched, but it only took him a moment to choose the wound in the center of the gruesome little formation. He wasn't certain if the spell would heal only one wound at a time, or all of them. He also wouldn't claim to be a master of healing magic.

As Harry's hands lay against the skin, the blood clung to his hand, but he could feel the eery feeling of more oozing forth. But he closed his eyes, he knew the charm and if nothing else, perhaps brute power would overcome his limitations. The last time he had released his power, all his power, it had been destructive enough to blow Voldemort to bits.

The pain of that night flickered in his mind. Voldemort standing over him, those self assured words of triumph, all the pain that seemed to have consumed him. The never ending pain his life had become. Something in him had broken. The magic had poured from his chest down his arm and into his hands. Brutal. Now, as Harry's palms pressed into Syren's wounded flesh, the same forced strummed through him. Something buried, but ready when he needed it. The magic was warm, hot even, as it coursed from him. Harry concentrated on that little lesson Madam Pomfrey had imparted, about healing deep wounds such as these.

Harry felt as if he poured himself into the slim Irish girl, his magic sliding through her body mending the broken bits that had been sliced open by the small chunks of metal. Destruction was, after all, a very simple thing to do. Repair, healing, these things were more difficult.

A small gasp startled Harry and woke him from the spell the powerful magic had cast on him. His eyes opened, only to meet a surprised pair of brown eyes. His fingers brushed across Syren's stomach, sliding across smooth skin where only moments ago ragged holes had been.

"Syren!" a voice said loudly. The small girl sat up slightly as her name was called. At the sign of movement everyone swarmed around the Irish girl. She flushed at the attention, Jean ordering her to lay back down and not strain her abdomen. Some other teenage girls, dropped to their knees, ignoring the blood on the floor, and gently latched onto their friend. Colossus managed to stumble over. He'd been knocked unconscious along with many of the older, stronger mutants. A dark bruise still marred his forehead, but he didn't seem to mind. He took a seat next to Syren and held her hand weakly.

"Hey," he whispered softly. His relief expressed more in his eyes than in his words.

Harry meanwhile did his best to scoot out of the way. He wouldn't deny that he had used a great deal of magic to save the young mutant. It hadn't been quite a purposeful as he'd have liked either. It just seemed like the magic took control. It might have been a little worrying, but at the moment Harry was more concerned about the way the floor kept tilting.

Harry rubbed his temples and closed his eyes as he tried to dispel the vertigo that had gripped him. Of all the times to be dizzy. He felt a strong compulsion to go to sleep, perhaps for a week. He currently cursed whoever had invented stairs, his new dorm room seemed impossibly far away. However, after some well placed footwork, Harry managed to stagger upward, his body leaning slightly to left as he stood in the entrance hall. Harry groaned as he suddenly took in the room at large.

A few students were looking at him curiously and thankfully, but it wasn't their inquisitive gazes that concerned him. Gathered in some sort of semicircle, the professors stared at him with wide demanding eyes. Professor Xavier, seated in his returned wheelchair, gazed at Harry with a penetrating look that would have done Dumbledore proud.

Cursing would have been a good option at this point. But Harry noted, with some glee, that the edges of his vision were growing steadily darker, his vison blurring. He welcomed the darkness, he'd much rather deal with this in the morning. Harry was barely aware of a firm pair of arms catching him as he slipped, happily, into unconsciousness.

-

-

A/N: Because some people have asked:

This cross is mainly playing off of the first movie, and may be including other characters from the comics. However, I may very well choose to portray them in any manner I see fit. Upsets you? Try and live with it. (In addition, while I know that Syren's name is spelled as 'Siryn', (or some people say siren, others say syrin its a bloody mess.) I decided to go with a different spelling. CosmosGravitation (a great help there by the way, thanks again.) pointed it out and I changed it but then changed it back. I like this better, much more like a name as opposed to an object. This spelling reminded me more of the mythical creature. And this is fanfiction, why can't I change it eh?)

In addition, this fic in not going to have any slash in it. Like slash? That's fine, there are plenty of fics out there for you too choose from.

In general terms of pairings, there really aren't going to be any that are serious. Harry's a virile young man, perhaps like some of you readers, so I'm sure he'll take his chances where he can get them. But I don't foresee any fluffy pairings that would make anyone spew. This story is more plot based.

And also curious why some people seem to be under the misapprehension that I'm not planning on continuing this fic? I have a fifty page outline, certainly not planning on posting a few chapters and calling it done. I won't set a finite deadline for updates because I do have other projects outside this, including a job, but I will be finishing this fic.

Thus ends the long A/N, never to appear again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Walking In, Walking Out

Harry's eyes opened slowly. His head throbbed and he was relieved to find that the lights were dimmed. His arms seemed heavy as he maneuvered them to rub his face. The sleepiness was leaving slowly, a sure sign that he'd either been exhausted from partying (it was bound to happen someday, right?) or the more likely reason, that he'd been knocked unconscious. Harry managed to survey the room he was in, sterile and smelling of antiseptic. Well that removed any hopeful notion he might have had that his current condition was the leftover from a night of booze and debauchery. Harry's mind was slowly recalling exactly why he was in the Hospital wing this time. In a moment he remembered.

"Fuck!" he cursed rather loudly. Too loudly, he groaned in annoyance as his head pounded. He couldn't even curse properly about his current predicament. Mind, he wasn't certain whom he was cursing, Fate or himself. Likely the later. He rubbed his head, willing the throbbing to subside.

What had he told himself, what had been the plan. He'd meant to lay low, eat some food, strengthen his admittedly scrambled mind and then leave without any questions. As always, in theory, the plan had been perfect. He'd made a few missteps, but as a whole he'd managed to blend into this mutant world without much attention.

Yes, the plan had been perfect and, as usual, he'd managed the perfect way to bollox it up. It was certainly a skill. He'd known about the limitations of mutation and in the face of trouble that knowledge had just flown out of his head. Perhaps a good thing for the mutants, but not necessarily good for him. He'd have to learn to control this 'saving people thing' that was master over his reactions.

Harry frowned. A rather persistent voice in the back of his head reminded him that Syren could have died if he hadn't interfered, as well as other innocent young mutants. He couldn't really feel that bad about it. He really was a Gryffindor. He could be sly as any Slytherin, but when things went pear shaped he was the quintessential Gryffindor golden-boy. Which was lame, he was really starting to understand this now.

Still, that side of his character wouldn't really help him explain his 'unusual mutation' whispered a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Severus Snape.

Harry managed to sit up on the comfortable cot he'd been lying on. He leaned back on his pillows. What had he done? Or, to put it better, what could they _prove_ he had done. Two stunning spells which no one, not even Bobby and Pyro, had seen. Legilimency, which could be seen as some sort of telepathic ability. Harry had little doubt that Xavier knew who had sent him the little mental nudge. The summoning charm, but then Jean could do that as well. The healing thing he wasn't as certain about, Wolverine's ability seemed to only work on himself. That wasn't to say that there couldn't be a mutation that worked in that way. Harry cursed, quietly this time, still it looked like he's screwed himself over.

Not that all couldn't be repaired by a reasonable excuse. Perhaps, um, 'Ah healing, I said I could heal so I...', or 'What you can't do that?', and maybe even 'I am a terribly powerful mutant whose power far surpasses your own, bring me offerings of lemon drops and Mars Bars'. He also considered telling the whole truth, but that seemed crazier than his made-up alternatives.

Harry growled in frustration. Maybe it might be better to just disapparate now and avoid the turmoil.

A dark head poked in and looked at Harry with some disinterest.

"I thought you'd be awake," commented Wolverine. He rolled his eyes, "Jean forecasted you'd be asleep for hours yet. I tried to tell her but," Wolverine shrugged. Harry understood perfectly, it simply wasn't worth the effort to try and convince a healer of anything. He pushed a button that made the lighters brighter and Harry blinked. The mutant crossed to a chair and stradled the piece of furniture while he looked at Harry.

"Yeah well, any chance I'll be allowed out since I woke up early" questioned Harry.

"Not a chance," the mutant stated with confidence. "Jean was more than a little worried because she couldn't figure out why exactly you collapsed."

Harry groaned. "Just over exerted myself," Harry waved the implied concern aside.

Wolverine nodded. "I suppose all that stuff would tire someone out. Especially a twerp like you. I nearly got pummeled by all those helmets by the way." The small insult did not disguise the pointed comment about all Harry's 'stuff'.

Harry looked away, "Sorry about that," he answered not really meaning it.

"I should probably go tell the others you're up, they wanted to talk to you."

Harry's slightly panicked look must have given him away. He wasn't ready to confront the adults, he hadn't managed to invent a proper cover yet. "Ummm, yeah do you have to do that now," Harry ignored the gravelly tone his voice took.

Wolverine pulled out a chair and took a seat. "You worried about something?" The blunt question seemed to mask some concern.

Harry shrugged. "I uh...didn't mean to...I mean, well it wasn't like I wanted that to happen." Great, Harry mentally groaned, you've fallen back into muttering nonsensically and looking at your hands. Classic.

"Shit happens," the Canadian mutant said, leaning back in his chair. He was quoting a bumper sticker but Harry didn't know that and nodded at the man as if he'd said something very wise. In fact, from Harry's perspective, it was perhaps the wisest thing he had ever heard.

"Too often," Harry agreed. "Just this place seemed so...nice. You know."

"Sure, but people always hate what's different. Nature I guess."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He was the different one now. But Wolverine didn't seem to have drawn that connection. The older man was staring at the wall behind Harry with a firm look on his face.

"Suppose it was too good to last," Harry muttered. Wolverine focused on him again. "I mean this place. It was nice to have a place that was just so...nice. Kinda reminded me of somewhere I was once. Where I wasn't a freak," Harry was a little lost in nostalgia as he recalled the early Hogwarts days, the days where he felt safe and welcomed in the old castle.

"Whoever said you were a frea— Okay, I guess we've all heard that, right. Still last night doesn't mean that you're...well. You know, you're still okay." Wolverine's attempt at comfort was rather stilted, but Harry, oddly enough, found some feelings of relief in the few words. He hadn't even realized how worried he had been about being rejected. He frowned wondering when he had he started worrying about being accepted here at Mutant High. It could only ever be temporary. This wasn't his world, in many senses.

"Theresa is very grateful Harry," said a soft voice, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. He looked over to see the Professor framed by the door, his confused expression prompted the Professor to add, "I believe she likes to go by Syren." Wolverine stopped tipping his chair and sat up as the Professor wheeled his way into the room.

"I'll also admit that I'm quite impressed at what you were able to do, yours are certainly gifts that one doesn't see often. At least not together. And your quick thinking and calm mindedness probably saved more than one life." Those probing blue eyes caused Harry to tense reflexively.

The old man smiled trying to ease the boy's fears. He couldn't help but wish that he could access the young man's mind.

"Yeah about that...um, you're probably wondering why I didn't tell you about it." Harry rubbed his forehead, scratching a peculiar lightning bolt shaped scar.

"I assume that it seemed private to you," Xavier said softly.

"I just didn't want to...you know stand out." Harry looked downward into his lap. It wasn't a lie.

"Harry I don't mean to pry, but I am curious about your mutation. We can't help you if we don't know what we're dealing with."

The Professor's words were kind and Harry shifted uncomfortably. He was very aware of the fact that he didn't deserve their help. Not that they could, or that he needed it. He cringed slightly considering his lack of control with the healing charm, okay, so perhaps he wasn't perfect. But this was magic not mutation.

But there was something about Professor's honest concern, his devotion to the young people in his charge, it was hard to admit but it shamed Harry. He had been purposefully cloaked in lies, decieving these good people. He felt like a foul wanker. It was one thing to avoid speaking the truth, it was another thing to lie. 'I must not tell lies.' The phrase invaded his thoughts. But it wasn't this maxim that pushed him over the edge. There was something in the Professor's kind face. It was the sort of face that he wondered how people kept. A face that just seemed good.

"I'm not sure if you'll believe me," Harry said softly. "You'll think it's crazy."

The Professor's eyes crinkled and his lips quirked into a smile. "Why don't you try me, I've heard quite a few interesting stories in my life."

Harry's eyes flickered to Wolverine, but swallowed his concern. "Well...it isn't exactly mutation. It's...well...magic." Harry swallowed the desire to explain about moving between dimensions. Better to see how the Professor handled this idea.

The Professor blinked. He moved a hand to his lip and tapped it thoughtfully. "Harry. Many of the things we can do seem like magic. Indeed many of the first mutants thought it might be something like that. In the early days before we'd discovered things about genetics there was nothing else to fall back on. But now we know that all our abilities are linked to mutations in the genetic structure. While yours may seem a little more...unusual than most, I assure you that there is a explanation behind it."

Harry felt almost like laughing. He'd been honest and they didn't believe him. It was annoying in a way, but Harry couldn't fault the Professor's attitude. After all, he was something 'out of this world'.

"Can mutation do this?" Harry asked. With a twist of the wrist, Harry transfigured his cot into a four-poster, not unlike his own in the Gryffindor dorm, he tucked the blankets tighter around himself and gazed steadily at the two men who were watching with poorly disguised disbelief.

Wolverine tilted his head. "Looks like magic to me, can you make a rabbit come out of a hat?" he asked.

Harry grinned and shrugged, for all he knew he could.

"There must be an explanation..." Xavier shook his head. It wasn't impossible to have a mutation change this...perhaps he could manipulate molecules or effect some sort of transmutation. Still Xavier had never seen such a transformation and factoring in all the other things he'd seen...it was peculiar.

Harry allowed the Professor his confusion. He'd been right to avoid mentioning his presence in this dimension. While he'd felt a strange urge to be honest, he knew that such a level of honesty wouldn't help his case at the moment.

"Harry, I don't mean to pry...but would you mind if we had a sample of your blood to study for genetic traits. Maybe it might explain your unique abilities."

A part of Harry's mind screamed NO! How many times had he been warned that blood could be used in all manner of dark rituals. Still, a more sensible part of Harry's mind understood that perhaps Xavier needed to search for the logical before he was willing to believe the truth. Harry nodded stiffly.

Then he addressed something he'd also thought about in the brief moment where he'd decided to confess to this teacher.

"People don't exactly need to know about this, right?" Harry asked. He was worried about information control, but the Professors change of expression let him know he'd been misunderstood.

The Professor's face half smiled, a somewhat knowing look. "I'll be talking to Jean and your teachers, but I think the students can draw their own conclusions. Although," here the Professor frowned. "You may want to consider speaking with them. This is nothing to be ashamed of. You have a unique gift, one which you have used for the better."

Harry shrugged, allowing the professor his misconception, it was probably the more natural assumption.

"Professor?" he asked in a questioning tone, "About those men, who were they?"

"Not something you need to worry about, you are quite safe from them," The old man said, he tapped his hands gently on the arms of his wheelchair.

That wasn't really an answer Harry noted, "What are you going to do with them?" he asked.

The professor met his gaze for a moment, "We will make certain that they are not a threat to this school and the students in it."

"You'll kill them?" Harry asked bluntly, his tone matter-a-fact.

"Nothing that far," the professor said slowly, his blue eyes watching the young man carefully.

Harry didn't like the expression in those eyes, it had changed from the amused, protective glance from earlier and seemed to hold a sharp edge. Harry didn't know what he had said wrong. Some people needed killing, that was the only way it would end. He'd gotten over his ideals a long time ago. He wasn't a homicidal maniac, but he there were simply times when people didn't deserve second chances. Those people that stormed the school, they were willing to slaughter children. Not that he'd be stepping up to act as executioner, he wasn't planning on introducing the mutants to his 'killing curse mutation' any time soon. But from Harry's point of view he couldn't see the loss of such human beings as too much of a problem. But then maybe the professor could mind wipe them, take away all their memories and drop them off somewhere. Maybe that would be fine too. Either way, he knew Xavier wasn't going to accept his argument. He let the matter pass.

The door opened and Harry expected Jean but oddly enough it was Storm who entered and drew Harry's blood expertly. Most of the teachers at Mutant High had some medical knowledge, particularly in the field of genetics. Not only had they learned it for themselves, but also for the students. Genetic profiling wasn't usual fare for a school nurse, but it was something quite common here. The gene sequencing machines had cost a small fortune, but the help they had given the students was invaluable.

Harry yawned. Storm seemed to notice this and hurried Wolverine out. The man didn't complain much, just looked pensive about what he had seen and heard.

The professor was the last to leave and he dimmed the lights as he left.

"Just, don't expect many answers, Professor. I've never gotten any," commented Harry. He lowered himself onto his new bed and closed his eyes.

The Professor watched the boy as he closed his eyes, nodding even though the gesture couldn't be seen. He sat in his chair for a moment, raising his hands up to dim the lights.

Harry was the only word out of the UK since the Mutant Act had passed, and the information hadn't been promising. He truly hoped they could help this muddled young man, not only for himself, but also because the boy could prove to be a saving grace for his country, one that currently seemed lost. Xavier still fretted over the fate of Britain, how had the nation have fallen so far so fast? Ten years ago he would have considered the UK to be among the most reasoned and accepting of any nation, even more so than the United States. But now...It was almost enough to make you give up hope, almost.

That is if things were as they seemed.

Xavier stared at the door for a moment. The boy was powerful, perhaps too powerful for one his age. Xavier tried to consider possible explanations for the faculty to which he had ended the confrontation. His decisions had been well thought out, logical and saved them a great deal of trouble. It seemed to be the product of much experience, but his knowledge of the English mutant community was rather extensive considering his connection to Thomas Winters, thus it was strange that he hadn't heard of the boy before. So, either Harry Potter was amazingly quick on his feet, or the action wasn't as spontaneous and unplanned as they were led to believe.

The helmets the soldiers had worn already had the Professor considering other motivating sources, despite the fact that the minds he'd explored didn't seem to have any knowledge of Magneto or Eric Lensher. While it was possible that the military could have derived the importance of Magneto's helmet, it was even more likely that they had been given the information from someone. Eric would never target the school under normal circumstances, but Xavier had no way of knowing exactly how ruthless confinement might make his old friend, in their brief visits he had shown no sign of giving up.

And it was impossible not to see Harry as the stereotypical recruit. A young man with great power, one who seemed to have suffered from humanity's cruelty first-hand, and an individual who seemed to hold little belief in the value of life, at least if that life was a considered a threat.

Xavier ran his hand along the skin of his head.

He was jumping at shadows. Not being able to see into this young man's mind was making him feel oddly nervous. He never tried to intrude, but it was habit to know the surface thoughts of almost everyone he met. Suddenly being in the dark was disconcerting. And just moments ago the boy had managed to avoid a rather strong mental compulsion.

A compulsion, different than entering the mind, was something that played off the power of suggestion. It was almost separate from his telepathy, something he had honed over the years and even among other telepaths it was essentially impossible to block. Which was way he used it only rarely and only for the best intentions. He was a little ashamed to have used it now, but he assured himself that it would do no harm. What he had done had been very simple, he had merely been urging Harry to tell the truth, to confide in them. It would be in his best interest to do so.

But the young man seemed somewhat stubborn, he had woven a story about magic. Either the boy was aware of what Xavier was doing and somehow managed to counter it, or he had an amazing strength of will. There was also the chance that perhaps he really did believe it was magic...but even still the boy should have confided everything in him, not just a weak explanation and a magician's trick. Indeed, such a method could lead to people blabbing their most embarrassing secrets. Magneto had found it funny, once, and so had he.

He pushed his chair toward Storm who was writing a label for the blood sample in tiny handwriting. The sample she had taken from Harry would be chilled until Jean got a chance to examine it. Out of the respect, the other teachers only invaded Jean's domain in the case of an emergency.

As of yet, this did not apply.

"What do you think of him," Xavier found himself asking the young weather mutant.

She narrowed her lips, "You seem concerned."

Xavier smiled faintly, she had a way of reading people. "I'd just like if we kept an extra eye on young Mr. Potter, several things are not adding up. And we've been betrayed in the past."

Storm's eyes looked a little chilly, "Surely, Professor, he's just a boy."

Xavier's hand moved out slowly, patting her honey skin in a fatherly manner. "Yes. You're right."

Xavier forced himself to let the matter drop. The young man would tell them his secrets in due time. He couldn't afford to look at Harry the way he had been for the last few moments. The late Senator Kelly had argued that teenage mutants were potential weapons. And, perhaps in a way he was right, but it wouldn't do for the principal of Mutant High to doubt his young charges.

If it were, things were darker than he feared.

-

As soon as the Professor left Harry opened his eyes. He wasn't really tired enough to sleep, but it had managed to clear the room quickly. He wasn't certain what his blood would show the Professor, but he was certain that it wouldn't be the information that the professor wanted to hear.

Harry stared into the darkened room and questioned himself more throughly than Xavier could have. His motivations were purely selfish, he'd admit it. He wanted to enjoy this simple school just a little longer. The world outside was hard and cold, and he'd now learned to enjoy these pockets of warmth and welcome. Still, did he owe them the truth? He'd let them in on what he was, his magic, but not where he was from. Would it make a difference to them? Harry hazarded to think it wouldn't. These X-men seemed like nice fellows, good souls all. But he simply didn't want to take the risk. He could say that he was merely 'adjusting' Xavier to the information.

He bit his lip and turned over, what it came down to, was that he wanted to stay. Was that so bad? No one was missing him, no one was trying to kill him, at least not him specifically, he had plenty of food and a nice place to live. He even rather...liked the people he was with. What did it hurt? Nothing. Harry resolved to once again put the issue aside. Why had he felt the need to confess to the professor as if he were confessing his sins to a priest? He might be lying but his lies weren't malicious, he wasn't here to hurt anyone, he'd even helped someone.

Somehow the resolution allowed his body to relax. Harry slipped into dreams, dark ones presided over by a monster with red eyes and a high laugh. But when he woke in the morning, he didn't remember them.

-

Harry followed Storm into an empty wood-paneled room. A few long desks were scattered about and Harry pulled out a chair and took a seat. He'd awoken an hour ago to be met by Storm. Not a bad way to start the morning. She'd announced that Xavier had managed to arrange the aptitude tests for him to take.

"Are you sure you don't want a real breakfast?" Storm had inquired.

Harry chewed the last bit of his Carbo bar and smiled. "No, this is fine. I just really want to get these done."

"Okay," the white haired woman dropped a large stack of test packets on his desk. Harry frowned at the large booklets and the little circle answer cards.

"All this?"

Storm seemed to be enjoying herself. "Yep, See if you can finish a few before lunch time, then you can have a break for a bit before completing the rest. Math, Science, English, History, and the Professor even threw in an IQ test."

"Goodie," Harry replied sarcastically. Was it too late to change his mind about staying?

"Just do your best," encouraged the kind woman, she tussled his hair in a playful way that Harry found annoying.

Harry frowned as he examined the test booklets in front of him. They were the sort where you filled in little bubbles. He skimmed his fingers through them, trying to discern how long it would take. Thankfully these tests seemed to be somewhat abbreviated, he'd be able to get through them hopefully before lunch. Math wouldn't be bad to start with, Merlin knew it would be better than Science or History. Flipping through the page he stumbled along problem one.

1) Differentiate

y 1+ arctan x 

2- 3 arctan x

Harry blinked his eyes. He closed them longer and tried to will the problem away, when he opened his eyes these would all make sense. Things like addition, subtraction, maybe some long division. Was this Algebra? He remembered something about Quadratics...maybe?

The next question perhaps...

2) Compute

lim 5x2-8x-13

x2 x2 - 4

Harry groaned. Alright the English test it is, he spoke the language that had to count for something.

-

Harry was down to his last test, and so far things hadn't gone well. I was very humanizing to realize that, as far as muggles were concerned, he was intellectually lower than an idiot and a moron, landing him in the "special" category. He'd bumbled his way from test to test feeling his spirits sink lower and lower. He'd practically just randomly guessed on the Science portion. He was finishing his last test when Storm entered quietly.

He'd saved the IQ test for last. He'd never taken one but Hermione had, she'd mentioned it once. The number, if he recalled, was better if it was higher. Hermione's had been high, of course, and she'd also mentioned that it was very fun. Once again Harry was reminded that his and Hermione's definition of fun was very different. The test hadn't been terrible, certainly not the humiliation of the previous, but it was silly and seemed to have no clear point by Harry's reasoning.

35) A Pie can be cut into more than seven piece by making four diameter cuts.

True

False

Harry circled the true box and leaned back in relief. When would he need to be cutting a pie anyway? Also how many times you cut it would really depend on the size of the pie. If it were a small individual pot-pie it would be stupid to cut it into eight pieces. While if you needed to have enough pie for twelve people who'd need to slice more anyway. And why would you be counting the slices in the first place.

"Wow, you finished," commented Storm in surprise. Her words managed to stir Harry from his thoughts, thankfully. His brain was feeling like so much mush at the moment.

"Yeah, not hard when you don't know any of the answers," stated Harry.

"I'm sure you did alright," the white haired woman said with a smile. She patted his shoulder in a commiserating manner. Harry did his best to seem upset, rather than just bored.

"On the plus side," Storm said with a grin, "It's lunch time, and I'm sure you could do with some real food. In fact I insist you eat a lot. Nice big helpings of...potatoes, starchy sorts of the foods, and some vegetables, and lean meats...and dairy."

"Jean was upset that I skipped breakfast huh," said Harry with a cheeky grin.

"Yes," complained Storm, her eyes looking heavenward. "She phoned specifically to ask and we were all treated to a lecture on how it is important for you get filling meals with all dietary needs accounted for. So do us a little a favor and get a big plate, okay?"

"Kay," Harry said with a yawn.

"Have you figured out where the cafeteria is yet?" the mutant asked avoiding his lackadaisical attitude.

"I'm sure I'll manage," agreed Harry.

"Well, then I'll go see that these are graded," Storm shuffled through the answer sheets while Harry groaned.

"Don't feel like you have to get them done too quickly," he argued. Proof of his stupidity did not need to come on swift wings.

Still, he consoled himself by thinking that it didn't really matter. Who knew, it may even give him the chance to learn something before returning to the wizarding world.

Harry walked through the hallways of Mutant High, his brain still feeling like pudding. He wasn't paying much attention to where he was walking, luckily the hallways seemed empty. Everyone else must have scurried off to lunch. He passed a few empty classrooms as he walked There weren't many desks inside.

From what Harry could tell, Mutant High had a smaller population than Hogwarts. It was almost as if the lower levels had been dropped off. He supposed that made sense if children didn't learn they were mutants until they reached adolescence. Also, while there were a few international students, Mutant High seemed to cater mostly to Americans. Perhaps there were similar schools abroad. But then if that were true, why had they brought Harry all the way over here? It was rather complicated, of course it also seemed as if this whole mutant thing hadn't been going on for too long. Hogwarts had a history reaching back a thousand years, these mutants seemed much newer. Harry once again wondered how the wizarding world was coping with all this. What sort of tension had it created among the already bigoted purebloods.

Harry sighed. He could certainly wait to stumble back into all that chaos. As much as he loved the wizarding world, he couldn't deny all the problems it had brought to his life. All the burden. Still this _was_ a different world. Were his parents alive, Sirius? Did he perhaps already exist here. That was an eerie thought, there might well be two of him wandering around. And Ron and Hermione, how were they here? A little less scarred, a little less jaded? And he had to wonder about Voldemort, was the old devil still prancing around causing mayhem. This was a new world, things might very well even be switched. Tom Riddle Champion of the Light! Ridiculous, but who was he to say. Harry was beginning to think that the only way his questions would get answers would be if he went back.

But he decided not to think about that now. Lunch time.

The cafeteria would have been easy for anyone to find. It was currently the only place in the mansion that was producing such a volume of noise. Plates clattered, the shrieks of laughter and the yells of students echoed about, all and all it was a place filled with youth. The smell of food, of all kinds, filled the air in an almost magical manner. Harry's stomach growled, perhaps he shouldn't have skipped breakfast.

Harry looked over and spotted Iceman and Pyro settled at the same table as yesterday. He couldn't avoid the small smile that crossed his features when he noticed a seat had been saved for him. Thankfully his seat seemed to be a good distance from Pyro and Kitty who were engaged in some sort of tray battle. Kitty would move her tray forward, only to have it shoved back by Pyro. Both glared and began shouting about how the other was "hogging" the room. Harry honestly didn't want to know what was going on with them, he'd be tempted to call it sexual tension if they weren't such total opposites.

Crossing the room Harry settled into the buffet line, right behind a boy with red hair. He grabbed his own tray and silverware, examining what was available. He had to hand it to Mutant High, there always seemed to be plenty of food. He reached out to grab a sandwich, accidently bumping the boy in front of him.

"Sorry about that," Harry stated easily. The boy turned in his direction and nodded, then stopped dead. Harry waited for him to continue moving but the boy seemed frozen.

"Umm, are you okay?" Harry asked.

The red haired boy said nothing, then jostled the boy next to him. "It's him," the redhead said in a hissing voice.

Harry swallowed.

It wasn't long before everyone in the food line was turning to get a look at Harry, whispered conversations broke out. Others just remained silent, staring with agape expressions. Harry closed his eyes and drew a breath. It wasn't as if it were anything new. Still he couldn't deny that this was a part of his life he'd gladly left on another world. Harry managed to grab a little more food before crossing to his seat. There was a time where he might have stumbled, tripped or walked with an ashamed hunched back. It was how he'd been raised after all. But now he knew it didn't help. So instead he held his head high and bore their excitement with clear eyes and steady hands.

"Hey," Harry greeted plopping into the open seat at Iceman and Pyro's table.

"Uh, hey man. Where were you all morning?" asked Bobby, his grin a very obvious attempt at ignoring the stares around the room that were now pointed in their direction.

"Oh, placement tests." Harry rolled his eyes and bit into his sandwich. "Lousy all round."

"Ahh you can't have done that bad," Rogue said warmly. Her gloved hand patted his shoulder. Harry rather liked when she did that, there were a few other places she could pat too. Really she wasn't bad looking.

"Like anyone would care about what kind of scores he gets," Pryo said. "We're mutants."

"Hey that doesn't mean we can't...well it doesn't mean we..." Kitty trailed off with a shrug. She did however take the opportunity to shove Pyro's tray off the table.

"I WAS STILL EATING THAT!" shouted Pyro with more intensity than it was worth. Kitty wriggled her nose at him.

"I hate to admit it but I agree with Pyro," Rogue said with a shrug.

"Ah Ha! See I'm right. What were you agreeing with me about again?" The others broke into laughter as Pyro offered a sly grin.

"I mean its not like grades matter much, thanks to that Employment Notification bill we're all likely to be pumping gas or working at McDonald's. That is if they'd stoop to hiring us."

"Or running from the police," Harry added with a grin. Rogue sent him a conspiratorial glance in return.

"The Notification bill hasn't passed yet," argued Bobby with some hope in his voice.

"What is it?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"A new bill that's in the House now, if passed, it will require that all mutants notify their employers of their mutation, employers can even have employees take blood tests. One of many new laws that could be passed if some of those stupid interest groups get their way," Rogue explained with a shake of her head.

"Running from the cops indeed," Pyro said with a nod.

"Here's to flouting idiotic authority," Rogue said raising her glass. A few others raised their glasses as well, chuckling with a gloomy tinge.

Harry laughed as well. He worried for the sake of these mutants. In England their people were already being tossed in jail and cut up like science experiments. He couldn't believe the hate that was consuming this world. He'd never thought his home country to be so bigoted. He'd always seen more problems with prejudice in the Wizarding world, he'd considered the muggle society to be more modern, enlightened. It seemed hate found a way into the public psyche either way. A sad development.

Harry looked around at the people in the room. Normal conversation had returned, those mutants who met his gaze smiled in his direction. One younger boy even gave him a thumbs up. Harry couldn't help but wonder why people would want to hate mutants. This world, this place, it all seemed so nice. Why would anyone so actively pursue war and destruction? Defense was one thing...but sometimes defense could be taken too far. Now that which sought to protect was only propelling a killing machine.

"Um, where is Syren?" Harry asked. He'd only just noticed that she wasn't at her usual spot beside Colossus. His throat tightened...what if he'd done something wrong. Why did he ever think he was a healer?

"Oh she's okay," Rogue quickly stated. "Whatever you eh...whatever you did sure seemed to help her."

"But Dr. Gray sort of lost consciousness not long after you did. She came back in a few minutes but I guess the professor wanted to make sure they were okay. Cyclops took them both to the hospital in Mt Kisco," added Kitty.

Harry gazed toward the table where the professors usually sat, indeed both Cyclops and Jean were still missing as well. He hoped it wasn't for something more serious.

"She called and said she's okay," Colossus said. He looked over at Harry and nodded his head.

"Oh you've heard from them, you didn't mention that!?" Kitty exclaimed. She leaned closer to the large man.

"You didn't ask," was his only reply.

"You know there is a limit to how stoic a guy should be," moaned Kitty. "You could have said it and saved us all the worry."

"Sorry." Colossus took another bit of his sandwich.

"Well now that you've survived all your tests, you gonna be joining us for class?" Bobby asked.

"Um...I don't know." Harry shrugged and ate his own food.

"I wouldn't, they can't have graded that shit yet, you should escape while you still can. School, school, learning, learning...its like that is all they want you to do around here." Pyro bemoaned his fate, then he stole Kitty's dessert to comfort himself.

"It is a school," Bobby mentioned.

"You Thief!" the enraged Kitty shouted. Pyro deftly evaded her attempt to reclaim the cookie he had pilfered. Everyone else merely turned away and continued eating, it would have been more strange if Pyro and Kitty weren't fighting at lunchtime.

"Hey, I'm just training for later in life," defended Pryo.

Kitty flipped her hair in an annoyed manner. "Your life sure, but some of us are actually gonna make something of ourselves. I'm already applying to MIT!"

"Yeah sure sure, and when they find out you're a mutant with a pink nail polish fetish you'll be out, of course it's the nail polish that is really gonna be the kicker Being a mutant will have _nothing _to do with it, sure." Pyro's voice was filled with cynicism as he spoke. Harry thought he caught a glint of flame in the young man's eyes.

The table was silent. The truth had once again reared its head, and they all suddenly felt the snap of doors closing. No matter how good they were, some doors would always be closed to them. It was enough to piss anyone off.

"I won't believe it!" Kitty said with a waver of conviction. She slammed her tray for a moment and got to her feet, leaving them all to watch her back as she walked away.

The silence held on a little longer while Pyro grumbled about being right.

"So what are you gonna do?" Bobby asked Harry.

"About classes?" Harry asked. Bobby nodded. "Well Storm didn't say anything for today, and I'm not really in the mood. Anyone else fancy skiving with me?"

Bobby choked on his food. "You aren't serious, do you know what they do if you skip out on class," the ice mutant shuddered.

"Er...what?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's too horrible to mention, I couldn't sleep for a week," Pyro voice became eerie as he too shuddered in fear.

"What do they do?" Harry asked again. He wasn't certain how much he should believe their act.

"Two words Harry, two words...Bathroom Duty! The people at this school are pigs, you won't believe what was jammed down the toilet." Bobby collapsed onto the table, a disgusted expression still on his face.

"Well, maybe ya'll shouldn't have skipped to go to that lame movie," advised Rogue sagely.

Harry laughed as the pair glared at Rogue. Harry decided to tune them out as the boys embarked on another installment of why 'the comic book had been amazing' and 'how were they to know that the movie would suck', and wasn't it 'just like Hollywood to corrupt something so beautiful and pure'.

Harry finished eating and when the others got up to leave he followed them out. The halls were crowded now, filled with teenagers scrambling around to get to class. Harry's pace was much more relaxed, he slid through ignoring any amazed looks in his direction. He spotted Storm up ahead and bid a quick farewell to the others. He didn't quite feel like catching up with the weather mutant. He had a feeling she wasn't the type to just let him miss out on a day of learning. Still, he thought he was playing the role of student well enough, particularly as this all wouldn't matter after a bit.

Harry escaped the mansion and cut across the grounds. Just as Mutant High was smaller than Hogwarts, so too were the grounds. There were a few things that he did miss after this world jump. Everything here was very organized. The Mutants seemed to rule by science and reason, magic had it's own rules it's own improbabilities. Did he miss it enough to go back? And what about looking for his family and Sirius of this world. That was one of the reasons he'd come right? He took a seat beneath an elm. Harry tried to pull himself out of these thoughts. It was pointless. He wasn't a Hermione sort of person. He didn't make lists of pros and cons and then choose the most logical. He couldn't make decisions that way. Every choice he'd ever made had been based more on intuition. He'd go with whatever felt right, sitting and moaning about it wouldn't help.

"So, enjoying the sunshine?" a gruff voice inquired.

Harry squinted as he looked upward, "I guess so, getting some fresh air and all that."

"Suppose you didn't get much in that compound place." Wolverine plopped down onto the grass beside him. The man was dressed in torn blue jeans and a stained white T-shirt. Harry shook his head, and the man wondered why people couldn't picture him as a professor of a prep school?

"Not bad as far as prisons go," Harry said with a cynical grin.

"Suppose not, and I guess that magic stuff of yours must have come in handy."

Harry shrugged, "Not really...they watched me pretty closely, didn't want to give them any reason to shoot me full of drugs."

Wolverine nodded. "So you got to think about it to make it work, it doesn't just happen?"

"Yeah, well most of the time."

Wolverine shook his head, "Well, I'll hand it to you bub, you sure got a way of sparking the Professor's interest. His big brain will be trying to solve that puzzle."

"Why do I get the feeling you're jealous?" Harry teased. Wolverine smacked his head in a playful gesture.

"I thought you were all into school, wanted to finish your education or something. Why are you out here?" Wolverine pried, overlooking Harry's comment.

An unusually astute question, even if the mutant didn't know it. Why was he here? "Yeah well, sure I guess." Harry weakly evaded lacking enthusiasm. Wolverine cocked an eyebrow.

"Kids," grunted the Canadian.

"You're telling me that when you were my age you were some studious bookworm?" Harry shook his head trying to picture the surly mutant ever being interested in school. But the man stayed silent, and Harry chose not to pry.

"Anyway," Harry said leaning up against the tree, letting his back crack, "I figure I know everything I'm gonna need to survive." Harry stared ahead for a moment, his lips twisting into a grim expression.

"Maybe not everything," Wolverine interrupted. "Come on."

The older man rose and Harry found himself following, more out of curiosity than anything. Wolverine didn't seem like the type to take people under his wing, yet there was something caring and protective about the fierce man.

The two men entered a garage, the air smelt of oil and gasoline. Harry blinked in surprise as he saw several shiny, expensive cars lined up like pickets in a fence. Yeah, he wasn't feeling at all guilty for taking their money now. How in the world would they need all these flashy cars?

But Wolverine avoided the automobiles. Harry continued to follow him, letting his eyes take in the various models present. In his teen years he'd spent more time drooling over expensive broomsticks than muggle transportation. Still, even with his limited knowledge he knew that there were cars here that some men would kill for.

"Here's something, ever try to ride one of these. If you're gonna live in this world, it is certainly a must."

Harry's looked over, his smile widening. A few motorcycles stood gleaming in a corner of the garage. He had to admit, ever since learning about Sirius's bike he'd had an odd fascination with motorcycles.

Harry listened intently as Wolverine gave a quick overview of how to operate a motorcycle. And while the man gave a good grounding, Harry had the distinct feeling that Wolverine's motorcycle instruction didn't really account for safety.

"Countersteering, all you do is push further on the handlebar, like turning the bike in the opposite direction. The bike will lean at a bigger angle."

"How do you know how hard to push?" Harry asked.

"Aw doesn't matter, if you push too hard you'll just crash out, ride it out."

Harry found himself, once agin, thinking that there was a valid reason that Wolverine was not an instructor.

"Ready for a ride, you'll never know till you try." Wolverine cocked his eyebrow, looking at the still too skinny boy.

"Eh, sure." Harry agreed.

"Just got to get the keys." Wolverine pulled a small blade from his pocket as he crossed to a cabinet with a padlock. Harry watched as Wolverine used the hunting knife to pry the door open. Harry grimaced as he watched the knife slicing into the mutants hand as he jiggled the blade more. However with a crunch and a pop the cabinet opened and Wolverine snagged two sets of keys from inside.

He tossed a pair to Harry, "They sure seem to worry about things here. No beers, everything is locked," the man shook his head as he spoke.

"Imagine, what a surprise," replied Harry.

"Don't get smart," Wolverine tossed a set of keys to Harry. Harry noted that once again the man's hand was without a mark.

Harry looked at the keychain, "Eh these say 'Exclusive Property of Cyclops'," commented Harry.

"Yeah, he seems to like bikes, must think they make him look 'cool'. It's an uphill battle I'm sure," Wolverine chuckled darkly. "I figure he won't mind us borrowing them for a bit."

"If you say so," Harry answered with a grin, "Of course I'm just a student listening to my teacher."

"Smart ass," declared Wolverine as he revved his engines. Harry did likewise and soon the pair of them were racing out of the garage, the sound of their twin engines echoing about the room.

Bursting into the sunlight, Harry suddenly knew why Sirius had loved his bike. This was freedom. The way the wind moved through his hair, the steady rumble of power beneath him. Magic could get you anywhere in a second, but this seemed more real. He could almost feel the ground as he zipped by, as if the tires were an extension on his body. Wolverine hadn't mentioned helmets and Harry was glad. This was great, almost like flying. Wolverine raced ahead and Harry hurried to follow, soon the pair were slicing along winding forest roads. Harry's actions never nearly as precise, but he managed to stay on so he figured it was good enough. The speed didn't allow for much sightseeing, but just the feeling, so much like flying, was enough to put Harry in a better mood than he'd been in a long time. Ahead Wolverine reversed his bike and came to a stop. Harry's stop was less graceful, but all the same he couldn't stop smiling. He'd almost forgotten what real freedom tasted like.

"What do you think," Wolverine asked.

Harry just nodded his head, no words were needed.

"Well, we better part ways here, we're over 20 miles to the school, you've got a ride back," Wolverine said with a nod.

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Got a little recon mission up northward, don't have to watch you brats tonight. And you better hurry back if you want to avoid Cyclops seeing you with his bike."

Harry growled, "You dirty cheat, you're supposed to take the blame for this."

"Well not tonight anyway." Wolverine nodded his head in a cocky manner.

Harry grinned. "So what sort of reconnaissance are you planning?" he asked casually.

"Just a little trip the Professor wants to send me on. Some place up North, figure I don't want to walk into anything I want to walk out of. Keep your options open kid, that is what I say."

"So you don't always just storm into a place, eh?" Harry commented thinking back to Wolverine's actions at the mutant-proof facility.

"Depends," the man said with a grin.

Wolverine's engine roared to life and Harry found himself watching as the mutant tore down the road at speeds that greatly exceeded the legal limits. The man's words had gotten caught in his brain.

Don't just walk into something you may want to walk out of? Not a bad idea. It certainly had its merits. Harry tended to charge into things. It was how he got from day to day. How he'd landed in this world. But maybe a little change couldn't hurt. Especially as it might not be easy to walk out of where he needed to go. More subversion was required. Not his skill, but he doubted it was Wolverine's either. He had a little recon of his own.

And as usual Harry's problems solved themselves in a flash of inspiration. His solutions weren't always the best, but he'd move ahead either way. He could follow a plan till its end. But now Wolverine had vanished in the distance. Harry brought his own motorcycle to life. As he sped down the empty roads, an impish idea filling his head. Mutant High was relatively isolated, surrounded in a dense wood. With a tap of his hand the wheels seemed to loose their grip on the land and rose into the sky. Harry was careful not to rise above the trees, still he closed his eyes. Wish you were here, Sirius, Harry thought as he cut through the crisp air.

-

Mystique was not pleased. She'd spent another night in the forests surrounding Xavier's school. It had been another night wasted as far as she could see. In Magneto's coded letters he'd expressed his desire that she keep a close watch on Xavier's school, that something was bound to happen, and that she could pick up and aid any mutants who came her way. She knew Magneto had a plan, he wouldn't have sent her to these godforsaken, insect infested woods if he didn't have a purpose. But her patience was growing thin. She'd rather be back at Capital Hill impersonating Senator Kelly. Her excuse of a 'fishing trip' had raised a few eyebrows when the known workaholic had taken a few days off. If she wanted to maintain that idenity she would need to return soon, a few more days max.

Looking around her current position with a slight frown she wished she knew the reason she was here. Her particular abilities weren't useful in this current position. Even after Liberty Island, when the police were still swarming all over the city, she hadn't been forced to these lows. As, indeed, she was better camouflaged in a crowd. Still, she'd wait a little longer before reverting back to her previous mission: find a means of escape for Magneto. She'd discovered his location quite easily. Somehow Xavier had managed to acquire visiting privileges. Mystique wasn't certain how. Perhaps he'd used his mental ability or called upon the wealth of contacts at his disposal. It hadn't mattered, he wasn't a man that was difficult to loose track off. But knowledge of her mentor's location wasn't the problem._ The_ problem was difficult but no insurmountable.

Sadly being cast aside in this hellish place had given her a great deal of time to think. She was gazing out of the forest, once again wondering how all their beautiful plans had managed to go afoul. Unexpected problems had arose, who would have guessed that Wolverine would be such a problem. She certainly hadn't. She rubbed her abdomen, siding across the spot where his claws had sunk into her. He was powerful, she just hadn't been able to see it. Perhaps that was why Magneto wanted her to watch now, so that no other new arrivals might cause such havoc.

A flash of metal high in the sky caught her by surprise. Her head turned as she tried to locate the motion. There. Her eyes locked on the object, her head leaning back in surprise. A boy, a boy was flying a motorcycle through the trees. She could only see his shaggy black hair and thin build as he whipped though the air, heading towards Xavier's school.

An interesting development. Who was this newcomer? Well, whoever he was, she wouldn't misjudge him.

-

The lights had been off for two hours when Harry slowly rose from his bed. He'd been lying in the dark trying to discern if his roommates had fallen asleep. Neither seemed to possess Ron's steady snore, hence he wasn't sure. Still, time was wasting, he'd only have a few hours to determine the status of the magical world before he would be missed. He fumbled in the dark room for his clothes.

He'd set them right by his feet so they'd be easy to find. Yet, it took him a moment to find the clothes. He was just pulling up the zipper to his pullover when a voice startled him.

"Harry? What are you doing?" It was Bobby, his curious voice penetrated the darkness.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," Harry urged. He tugged on his trainers, hoping the ice mutant would take his advice.

A light switched on, Harry blinked in the sudden light. "Where are you going?" Bobby asked again.

"Nowhere, just..." Harry looked up and caught his roommates concerned gaze. "Look I've just got to check something out, I'll be back by morning." Harry smiled and nodded his head.

Bobby shook his head, "I'll come with you," he offered.

"No really. I'll be fine." Harry again tried to persuade the boy to let him be.

"Yeah, sure but that doesn't mean we don't want in on this." Harry's head jerked as Pyro's voice joined the argument.

Harry grumbled in his head. He'd already wasted a few hours waiting for his roommates to be asleep, if he wanted to do this tonight it might be better to take them with him. It would be much better to give them the slip later rather than create problems now.

Also, he had this vague idea that he could trust them. It was a strange idea. Last year he'd been so distanced from Ron and Hermione he'd fallen out of the idea of having someone he could trust. They had always been the only people he had such faith in. The responsibilities of the war and his role in it had separated them. Now he'd put a world between them. It was all better that way, some paths had to be walked alone.

But this wasn't one of them.

"Alright," Harry allowed with a smile.

Both boys cheered quietly, each reaching under their own beds to find clothes and shoes.

"So, where are we going," Pryo finally got around to asking. "I certainly hope you have something more exciting in mind than a trip to the bathroom."

"You could say that," Harry replied. Harry rose and opened the door to their dorm room, both of the young men following.

"So where are we going?" Pryo asked again.

"London," Harry answered simply.

Bobby coughed, "You mean like the one in England?"

-

A/N: Thanks to the reviewers' efforts, I worked to get this chapter out. Hope you enjoy it. I really liked all the comments, some of you are really thinking.

My apologizes for the terrible format of the calculus math questions, I fiddled for a bit to achieve even this level of inaccuracy in format, I think you'll get the gist. Any Mathematicians out there will have to let me know if it is even slightly close. I'm with Harry on this one. So, shrugs, what can you do eh?

Also to my great surprise, this fic has been nominated for a Quibbler Award. Never heard of a Quibbler, neither had I. But the name inspires me, I'm sure it will do great things. If you'd like to check out their site, maybe find some good fics to read, I've got the website here in a bastardized form so this website we are currently on will allow it to show. quibbler(dot)this-paradise(dot)com. I have no idea when they are voting, etc, so if you're curious you can look there. The presidential race is the vote I'm worried about. Hope you readers over 18 are registered.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Nothing Where Nothing Should Be

-

The darkness masked three rather impatient shadows.

"I'm commin' gezz," a southern accent drawled. Soon Rogue emerged from her room fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She had grabbed a hooded sweatshirt and held it and her purse in her left hand. She smiled excitedly.

"I can't believe you blackmailed your way along, and then made us wait," Pyro complained. He sent the girl a hard glare which she ignored, stepping beside Harry her grin grew even wider. Harry, Bobby and Pyro had been passing the rec room when Rogue had emerged, clad in pajamas, wondering what they were doing. Three had quickly become four, the young woman demanding they stop at her room as she wasn't inclined to prance around London in a nighty.

"You and Bobby practically did the same thing," Harry pointed out.

Rogue agreed, sticking her tongue out at Pyro in the process.

"So mature," he stated. She rolled her eyes as turned away, Pyro making his own comical expression at the back of her head.

"So how're we gettn' there," she asked Harry.

"Are we stealing the X-Jet!" Pyro asked excitedly. He bounced up beside Harry, his eyebrows reaching his hairline.

"Neat," Rogue agreed. Both Pyro and Rogue were on either side of Harry, Bobby trailed close behind Rogue.

"No," Harry said shaking his head. "How would I know how to fly a jet?"

"But, well London is kinda, you know, across an ocean. I don't ride coach." Pyro was honestly trying to figure the logistics of the situation.

"Just trust me, I have my ways." Harry managed to put an evil looking smirk on his face, having seen quite a few evil smirks it wasn't difficult.

The foursome were silent as they crossed the entrance hall. Everyone knew that the teachers lived on the first floor, and while curfews weren't strictly enforced in the mansion, what they were planning wasn't exactly allowed.

Harry lead them out of the mansion and onto the grounds. The moon was full overhead, it made Harry think of Remus absently. Back in his world the werewolf was dead, the moon couldn't trouble him anymore. Still the light did help to cast the grounds into a silver glow. Harry looked around for something suitable for his plans, finally spying a suitably long twig. He held onto it, recalling the lesson Abigail Brimley had given him about various forms of magical transportation. He was also reminded of the witch's unhealthy obsession for a seventies wizarding band called Apocolypto.

Harry hummed a few bars of "Hell Fire," one of the band's more popular songs before raising his hand and waving it as he would a wand. "Portus," he whispered. The twig glowed a faint blue color, which was reassuring considered he'd only cast the spell in lessons. And he really didn't want to risk slide-along apparating, moving three other people across an ocean might be pushing it.

"Take a hold," he directed.

No one moved.

"Go on, just hold on," Harry demanded. The three looked at him like he'd lost his mind but reluctantly grabbed a hold of the stick.

"If this is some sort of lame joke I'm gonna lite your bed on fire," threatened Pyro. "Maybe with you in itttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt" Pyro's voice suddenly echoed around them as a great force lifted their feet from the ground and they were flung into a whirling vortex of air, a sharp tugging of their navels the only real sensation that they were moving.

"Wwhats Gooing Onnn!" Rogue screamed.

"Just Hhold On!" Harry shouted. They really didn't seem to have much of a choice, it was as if their fingers had been superglued to the seemingly harmless piece of wood.

With a shudder they all suddenly landed onto some grass. The sun streamed down on them and they looked around dizzily. Harry had managed to remain on his feet but the others were collapsed and looking winded.

"What the hell was that," Bobby choked. He'd had most of the air knocked out of him when he'd fallen and still felt a little dizzy.

"I like to call it a portkey, but hey cheaper than flying." Harry looked around making sure that no one had seen their arrival. This particular spot was sheltered by a few bushes and tree. He knew it well and had often hidden from Dudley's goonish friends here, so he hoped it would be suitable. Harry tossed the stick aside.

"We're in London?" Rogue asked with surprise filling her voice. She accepted Bobby's hand, standing to her feet and looking around.

"Eh not quite," Harry explained. His examination had left him a little nostalgic, he wasn't far from a playground. "Welcome to Little Whinging, Surrey."

The three mutants looked around. It was an ordinary looking area, only the sun overhead convinced them of the distance they had traveled. There was a road not far from them, but only a few cars had driven by. The height of the sun and the dew on the grass let them know it was still morning.

"Why'd you bring us to Little What's-it Surrey?" Bobby asked. Looking around the place didn't look any different from a normal American neighborhood.

"Well, with all the anti-mutant sentiment I didn't think it would be smart to just pop up in London, they'd have us before a judge and locked up before the end of the day. I think it's best to get into the city the normal way, and Surrey isn't that far. There is a train station we can take a few blocks from here.

"So you know this area, is this where you lived?" Rogue asked. She glanced towards the subdivisions nearby.

"Um, well my Aunt and Uncle did," admitted Harry.

Glances became weary. "So take us to this train station already," Pyro demanded. He had brushed himself off and was already leaving the brush behind.

Harry quickly cut across Magnolia Crescent but couldn't avoid taking the little bit longer path down Privet Drive. He paused for a moment looking at number four. The place had never been home. Now it looked even less like itself. A few toys were scattered about the yard, sized about right for a toddler, a small racing bike was crashed into bush. Harry knew that the Dursely's didn't live here. Even with Aunt Petunia's spoiling nature she'd never allowed Dudley's toys to remain strewn about the yard. No doubt some nice normal family was calling number four home. And the cupboard under the stairs likely housed nothing more than cleaning supplies.

Harry had paused only long enough for his friends to gaze questioningly before he picked up his pace. It wasn't a long walk but he and the other mutants stood out among this area and he didn't want to get them in any trouble. He quickly left Privet drive behind never intending to return, again.

-

A train left Surrey at 8:00. It was train that quite a few commuters rode, their faces buried in newspapers as they rode towards London and another day's work. Four teenagers were also riding but none of them earned even a glance. They also hadn't been noticed while boarding the train, even though they didn't have tickets. Harry didn't have any money considering his situation, and the other three's American Dollars would have seemed out of place amid the British pounds. And being out of place wasn't something they could be.

"I can't believe this is working," Pyro said with a grin. He eagerly waved a hand in the face of one commuter but the man didn't even seem to notice.

"Stop that, it's not like you're invisible. This just makes people not notice you," Harry explained. He'd cast a strong Notice-Me-Not charm on both himself and his friends before boarding. It was the simplest thing he could think of considering the circumstances. If all went well perhaps the others could exchange their currency in London. That would be less noticeable.

"I've told you," Harry lectured in a rather serious voice. "No powers. They really will arrest you here, then they'll take you to a facility and cut you open to see how you work." Pyro looked ready to snicker. "I'm serious," Harry stated darkly. "This is a quick stop and we need to blend."

Rogue nodded solemnly, as did Bobby, although the ice mutant looked a tad green about what could happen if they were discovered.

"Yeah right, you've got to have the coolest mutation Harry. You'd get us out," argued Pyro.

"Not if you were an idiot about it," stated Harry.

"Sor-ry," Pryo said with a shrug laying back on the seat. He looked harshly at the people gathered around them, most dressed in suits and other business wear. "Are things really that bad here?" the boy asked.

"Yes," Harry answered softly.

The four teens leaned back in their seats listening to the sound of the trains running on the rails.

"So what sort of mutation do you actually have Harry? I've neva seen Logan's healing make a stick take us to England." Rogue, who was seated beside him, had shifted and was watching him with curious brown eyes. Her face was gentle, a smattering of freckles dusted her nose. Harry was close enough to notice the slight flush appear on her skin while he stared at her but didn't answer. The silence continued to drag on for a minute.

"Well," Harry finally said. "I don't know quite what you'd call it. I can do quite a few things. Sorry I didn't say anything about it earlier...I just..." Harry trailed off shrugging his shoulders.

"What sort of things?" Bobby asked. "Like can you freeze things?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Harry nodded.

"Control fire?" Pryro asked, leaning into the conversation.

Harry nodded.

"Geez, what can't you do?" Bobby asked. "Is this sort of thing normal...I mean not that you, um, I just mean— does the Professor know why it's like this?" He scratched his blonde head.

"Well I think it's cool, maybe you can control something on a molecular level or something." Her gloved hand patted Harry. "Can you suck other people's energy?" she questioned.

"Um, not that I know of," answered Harry honestly.

"HA!" Rogue said, pointing her finger towards the other boys.

Bobby grinned with a silly expression. "You've never seemed very proud of it before," he said to her softly. The blonde boy was sitting on her other side and nudged her shoulder with his own.

"Oh well. Ummm," Rogue nodded and straightened her hair while looking at Bobby.

"Don't make me spew," complained Pyro. He elbowed Harry looking for support. Harry found himself grinning at the three of them shaking his head.

After more playful nudging, everyone soon settled into staring out the window. Pyro leaned his head against the glass and promptly fell asleep. Despite the sun shining it was really the middle of the night for the teenagers, somewhere past one in the morning. Harry was rather used to going without sleep, and it seemed the other teens were too excited to really care. Still their rest wasn't long, before an hour had passed the train reached its destination.

Charing Cross Railway station was centrally located in London. The building overlooked both the Strand and the River Thames. But the four teenagers who stealthily left the train from Surrey didn't pay much attention to the architecture as they were swept from the platform and into the railway station. People hustled about, paying them no mind. Notice-Me-Not spells are particularly useful in crowds. One of Harry's teachers, a man by the name of Charlus Brown, had lectured extensively on this fact, just prior to disappearing his clothes and abandoning him in the middle of Hogsmeade— on a Hogwarts's weekend. It wasn't one of his prouder moments, but he'd never forget that spell's usefulness.

Simply put, Invisibility can lead to being trampled if you aren't careful. Notice-Me-Not charms allow you to sweep namelessly through a crowd. Which was what the four teenagers were doing.

The Station itself was just as busy as the platform had been, the morning commute left everyone cranky. People trudged about shoving papers into pockets. The ceiling overhead was frosted glass with iron supports, cris-crossing overhead like a giant net. Signs advertising everything from television shows to toothpaste circled the station, only interrupted by the train schedules which flashed departure times.

Culture shock wasn't as extreme when you still understood the language, but the three American still followed Harry like a bunch of ducklings. Which was just as well considering Harry really didn't want to have to worry about breaking Pyro out of jail.

Finding the exit everyone took a breath of the city air, finding it not much fresher than the air inside had been. Harry waved his hand and removed the charm that had allowed them the free train ride, secrecy wasn't as important now. Also the tourists he'd brought with them would likely be annoyed if everyone continued to avoid their eyes, it made shopping a little difficult.

Harry paused a moment to get a hold of his bearings. He'd really only used this station once when he and Hagrid had rode up for his school things all those years ago. He'd chosen it because he felt that Diagon Alley may be the best place to casually interpret the state of the wizarding world. He'd seen the magic marketplace under peace and war, each aura was distinctly different. Also, despite its obvious limitations, the Daily Prophet had been known to be right on occasion. Either way it was much safer to enter a busy shopping area and leave rather than sneak into Hogwarts.

"Look over there," Rogue said with a grin, "It's one of those double decker buses. Oh isn't that cute. Do you think we can ride one?" she asked.

Bobby was busy checking a paper seller's stand, examining a newspaper.

"You gonna buy that mate," the shop keeper said peevishly.

"You wouldn't know where we could find a currency exchange," Bobby asked the man.

"Americans," the man groaned. His bushy eyebrows rose skyward. "Spect you can find something that way," he said with a jerk of his thumb.

"You got something against Americans," Pyro growled. His chest thrust forward in a challenging manner, taking a step closer to the stand.

"Stop perpetuating stereotypes," Rogue said was a grimace. Her gloved hand grasped the fiery teenager, turning to the vender she smiled sweetly, "Thank you." She's added a deeper drawl to her voice and the man smiled cheekily as her.

"Oh there's the sign," Bobby said. Soon the three had moved over and were quickly exchanging their pocket change for some pound notes. They came back examining the money with interest.

"This looks like money from monopoly or something," Pyro stated.

"It's not very green is it?" commented Bobby.

"I think it's pretty. Look, I think that is the Queen." Rogue was staring with interest at the face on her new currency. "Can you imagine being a princess," she sated with a dreamy tinge to her voice.

"You know that is so weird, just the other day I was thinking about being a _princess_," Pyro sneered.

Rogue punched his shoulder, "You're gonna ruin this whole thing, Lorr, I need to get more girl friends."

"Didn't know you swung that way sweetie, next time let me know and I'll come watch," Pyro smirked, getting another shove from the Southern mutant.

Harry chuckled at the banter, "This way," he said interrupting what was sure to be another fight. He'd spotted a familiar landmark and was now heading in that direction. Behind him the other three were looking around with interest. Harry considered he'd have little trouble escaping for a few minutes. The others were having fun being tourists, enjoying this unexpected vacation. Maybe he could leave them in the record store next to the Leaky Cauldron while he picked up a Daily Prophet. A simple, 'I've got to use the loo,' would be excuse enough to disappear for a few minutes.

With such a plan in mind Harry and the others began cutting down Charring Cross road and in the direction of Diagon Alley. Along the way they passed a few bookstores, a dozen or so cafes or pubs. The four teenagers didn't look out of place as a few other tourists, maps spread in front of their faces, were moving around ducking into shops. Everyone seemed to have their temptations. They'd nearly lost Bobby when the boy had gazed longingly, drool practically pouring from his mouth, at the window of a pastry shop. Who'd have thought he had a sweet tooth?

"Can't we stop and get something to eat," Pyro moaned as they passed a deli.

"How can you be hungry, by our time it is like two o'clock in the morning." Thinking this Rogue seemed to automatically yawn.

"I don't care, I see good food and I want to eat," the feisty mutant paused again in front of a stand that sold falafels.

"We'll get something, I promise," Harry said. He continued dragging them further. Any moment now a familiar sight would reach his eyes. Now that he was almost upon it, Harry found himself getting excited. He hadn't really been looking forward to returning to the wizarding world, but now that he was close he could feel adrenalin rushing though his blood. His hands almost shook with energy. What sort of world would this be? He'd been avoiding coming because he feared that everything would be worse than how he had left it, but now that it was here he was feeling strangely optimistic.

"Where are we going to anyway?" Bobby finally asked.

Harry had been wondering on this question all night. It seemed odd that they would willingly follow him here without any questions. "There is something I need to check on," he said evasively.

"Is London where you lived?" Rogue asked curiously. She leaned nearer, her shoulder bumping his.

"This is where I was captured," Harry answered honestly.

"Oh," it seemed no one had anything to say to that.

"I don't know why you'd want to leave just to go to Mutant High," Pyro stated, he seemed to have fallen in love with the large city.

"It has its benefits," Harry said under his breath. In truth he still wasn't certain it had been too sane of him to come with Wolverine and Storm. But he hadn't been terribly sane at the moment and it had seemed like a reasonable thing to do.

Harry suddenly stopped. He looked to the left, then to the right. The record store stood looking somewhat vacant, as it always did. The large bookstore, some terrible chain filled with flash and color, also stood in it's usual place. However the building in-between the two was not what Harry had expected. The somewhat dour looking Leaky Cauldron, a pub which didn't attract the notice of most people who passed it, was not there. Harry continued to stare, feeling oddly lost.

He was staring at a Pizza Express.

The building displayed it's name in a manner that demanded the passer-bys to see it, it certainly wasn't hiding the entrance to the wizarding world. On a conscious level, he found himself wondering if he'd gone too far or not far enough. But the more he examined the street, his head turning quickly, the more certain he was that this was were the Leakey Cauldron _should_ be.

"Harry?" Rogue finally asked.

"It's not here," Harry said aloud.

"I think they're just closed," Pryo said. He neared the door and peered at a sign that listed the restaurant's hours. "Yeah, don't open until 11:30. Bad bit of luck, looks like some fine pizza."

Harry followed and soon stood on the stoop, peering into the darkened shop. He leaned forward and cupped his hands to see better in the gloom. His mood was rapidly dropping. Dropping like some atom bomb, and he wasn't certain what would happen if the bloody thing hit.

Indeed, it did look like a fine pizza restaurant. But once again he was filled with the entire wrongness of the situation.

"I know what it's like," Pryo said to him.

"What!" Harry jerked away, "what do you mean," his tone was a little higher pitched than he'd intended, reminding uncomfortably of his thirteen year-old self.

"I said I know what you must be going through man," Pyro reached a hand out and, in a commiserating manner, swung his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"You do?" Harry managed to say. Was Pyro psychic? Harry wouldn't say so, but hell if Trelawny could get it right from time to time who was he to say.

"Yeah, sometimes you just get the yen for a slice from your favorite pizza joint only to find the place not open." Pyro shook his head, his expression conveying all the tragedy of the world.

Harry found himself abruptly pulling away. "Uh, yeah. Guess I didn't think...what with the time difference."

"We came all this way for a– "

"I need to go somewhere," Harry interrupted Rogue. He stepped away from the group wondering what the hell he was doing.

"Uh, okay," Bobby said. "Where to?"

As if I knew, Harry thought to himself. "Just somewhere by myself. Stick to Charing Cross, I'll find you." Harry dashed towards the left.

"Harry!"

He heard Rogue's voice behind him but didn't slow. He rubbed his forehead in a nervous manner, keeping his pace quick. He bustled past people, staring at his feet and the sidewalk. More lost in his thoughts than anything.

Could they have moved it? Spotting a side alley Harry ducked in. He hoped to find a brick wall and hopefully the sound of a bustling marketplace beyond. Maybe a few wizards arguing about the price of newt bladder. But all he found was rubbish bins and twisting path that lead to another bustling London road.

Harry found his breath coming to him in quicker gasps. He blamed it on the hurry. Surely this wasn't the faint stirrings of panic. He turned away from the busy road and huddled in the middle of the alley, slumping against the brick wall.

It had seemed very simple. Demented, but simple. He'd take a bit of a holiday, for his health. Rest up a bit, learn a few more facts about this odd world, then return to the wizarding world and find his place in it. Do his 'recon' and decide what to do. Find old friends, see any family that might be left. In a twisted little delusional part of his mind he'd even constructed this idea about going to Hogwarts again. Not as the famous-boy-who-lived, but just Harry.

Now he couldn't even find the bleeding magical world. Why would they have moved it? That didn't make any sense. He wasn't as well-versed in magical history as Hermione had been, but he was pretty sure that Diagon Alley had been in that spot for hundred, maybe even thousands of years. Why would they move the hub of the magical world.

Then a dark voice whispered something that made him want to vomit.

What if it didn't exist.

It was comical, in that dark sort of funny way. And his reaction was almost cliche, he could literally feel a lead weight seem to settle in his stomach. It was like some empty bottomless pit had opened up.

But the dark voice was back. Doesn't it make sense. So much about this world was different. Hadn't he, on some level, wondered how the muggle world managed to ignore the magical world but attack mutants? Hadn't he wondered how the magical world was dealing with mutation, and yet he'd seen no signs. And wasn't it very odd, now that he thought of it, that a telapathic headmaster would have no knowledge of magic. The man had a gateway into people's heads, he had a vested interest in the way this world worked...and yet he hadn't spotted Harry's magic for what it was. The gnawing emptiness seemed to roar to life.

Yes the more he looked at it, the more it made sense. Tonks had spun some story about Sirius and finding James, and happiness and life with lost family. But had she merely been trying to cheer him up? She wasn't an unspeakable, how would she know what lay beyond the veil. She had been guessing, it was very obvious now. Guessing to make him feel better. And for some reason he hadn't seen that, had so desperately wanted to believe all of that.

No, he was jumping to conclusions. Magic simply couldn't disappear. He'd entered through a magical gateway hadn't he?

Yet, he hadn't been able to see the veil from this side.

Somehow he had to settle this matter, and there was only one thing he could think of to allay his worries. Perhaps Diagon Alley may not be here. Maybe the wizarding marketplace had settled in Nottingham, Bath or Stonehenge. It was possible. But there was one place that he felt he could depend upon. Its placement had been set following natural node lines, the four founders who had built it would have chosen no other location.

With a pop Harry Potter disappeared from his crouching position in an un-named alley in London and with an equally loud noise appeared in Scotland.

The low lying land stretched upward, thick grass growing wild. In the distance lumpy mountains burst out of the grass with shades of gray and tan. Harry spun around taking in the land before him. A large lake edged by a forest was nearby, and in the far distance Harry could see small white houses, seemingly growing out of the green. But in the one direction that mattered most, there was nothing. No castle, no towers, not even a ruin. The cliffs which had housed her looked empty. Perhaps the whole thing would have made a lovely postcard, but it would have been an empty scene.

Harry had, out of habit, apparated at the Hogwart's gates. There weren't any gates; after that first long stare, he found looking at the empty cliff was like looking at something out of his nightmares. It had him remembering something he'd told himself to forget. Why was he such a rebellious bastard.

Other people survived torture. He didn't think he was that special. One of his teachers, a man named Wilson, had been a muggle man who had been captured and held in a POW camp for over six years. He'd endured years of painful questioning, watching as the bodies of his comrades were dragged away and flung heedlessly into a pit behind their prison. Each time Wilson was taken away, there was the chance that he wouldn't return. Or that if he did come back to his little cell his mind wouldn't. He'd watched other prisoners grow quiet with time. The only noise coming from them was a strangled muttering. You didn't need dementors or the Cruciatus curse to drive a man round the bend. But Wilson hadn't been the only man to walk out of there alive and sane. Other men like him had built up a way of surviving even the worst. It was different for everyone, Wilson relied on a small pocket watch that he'd hidden in his shoe and later in the walls of his cell, knowing the time kept things organized. A buddy of his would try and name the birds that flew past his small window, relying on the lessons his mother had taught him as a boy. And Harry fell into his own pattern during his days, scratching marks on the wall to pass the time. Not days, because he couldn't tell that, but he'd make a mark each time he made it back to his cell alive. And as the marks grew to litter the wall, even after all he'd endured, he began to feel invincible.

But those men hadn't had to deal with what Harry did. Their minds at least where their own. That wasn't something Harry could claim. Voldemort enjoyed sending the young man visions. The Dark Lord sent him horrible things, and it was difficult to tell which were real and which were from the imagination of the mad man. He'd witnessed Remus's death first hand, Harry had a feeling that one was real, it had been too much like the proud werewolf to be false. He saw Dumbledore wreaked and bleeding, he saw Ron, Hermione and the other Weasleys tortured and killed without mercy. He saw everything he treasured turned to dust and scattered to the winds. And Hogwarts, it had been a terrible night when he watched her fall. He'd viewed the scene behind crimson eyes and been sickened by the feeling of triumph that soared through his veins.

A torture's wand, blade or whip was comforting, it only added to his sense of control. And a weaker part of him admitted that at least when they were done he could usually pass into nothingness, sweet unconsciousness to ease the pain. But when Harry awoke from Voldemort's games, there was only the silence of his cell and the knowledge that he would find no sleep that night. He'd stare at wet wall and wonder if he had seen truth, or fiction. And then he'd count the marks on his wall. He'd recite the numbers aloud as if they were a sort of scripture.

He promised he'd forget all that.

But seeing those empty cliffs, they had brought that feeling back. But he couldn't blame Voldemort for this desolateness, he'd made this choice on his own. He'd chosen to erase Hogwarts from these hills. All for a bit of peace and a chance to escape.

Without knowing it, Harry's footsteps walked him toward where Hogsmede would be. There was no path and there would probably be no town. But he walked that way the same. Maybe he wanted a stiff drink, and his mind hadn't yet caught up. He found himself counting under his breath and he ordered himself to stop.

It was the sent of smoke that shook him out of his thoughts. The clean air of the fields had vanished and instead the air was charred. He looked around, finding that somehow in his wandering he'd stumbled upon an actual road. It was more of a path than a road, just tire treads with grass growing between.

The path lead towards a black smudge on the green landscape. It had originally been tucked away, hidden behind some thick trees that looked somewhat unusual in the sweeping fields. Perhaps it had once been connected to the Forbidden Forest, but Harry couldn't recall such thick foliage close to Hogsmeade.

Harry continued his walk, he crossed the trees and found himself looking at the remains of a street. It looked not much different than Hogsmeade, smaller but the main street was almost in the same location. The houses didn't look as fancy, simple wooden constructs. Although it was hard to tell their original condition now. Only the support beams remained, standing skeletally. Piles of ash and burned debris was scattered about. Harry saw evidence of couches, beds. Behind one house he spotted a garden growing, unharmed by whatever blaze had happened here.

Somehow he couldn't muster enough emotion. These were obviously some peoples' homes. But his own place, his own home, had also disappeared into nothing. He simply didn't have it left in him to care. Looking around the destruction he felt an odd sense of jealousy. He'd have been content with a burned out wreck at the moment.

Anything to not feel so alone. Harry Potter was now, it seemed, the only wizard alive. The only boy who lived.

-

After staring at nothing, for who knows how long, Harry finally managed to reclaim some sense of awareness. The hills were still empty, he had seen what he had to see. And so without much thought, Harry apparated back to the London alley he'd come from. He glanced around cautiously, he was back in enemy territory after all.

He didn't have a wand for a Point Me spell, but he hoped that the others would be easy enough to spot. Merlin forbid they'd been picked up by the police, then they really would be in a bind. But thankfully it didn't take long to find them. While a few tourists still mingled about, the street wasn't quite as busy as it had been. He spotted the three not far down the road, emerging from a bakery clutching biscuits and a few buns.

"Hey," he said, slipping back beside them.

"Harry!" Rogue grabbed his arm, a relieved look on her face. "Lorr, we were worried. Hate to explain how we evera got here without passports."

Harry didn't smile, his face wasn't working at the moment. "I just had to check something, not too friendly to strangers if you get my meaning."

"Ah, sure. Want one?" Pyro lifted a bag.

An odd hunger was upon him and Harry pulled out one funny shaped roll.

"It's called a Pizza Hat, the things you Brits come up with," Bobby was eating a similarly shaped roll.

Harry bit into the bread, he didn't pay much attention as he ate it.

"Is everythin okay Harry?" Rogue asked. She was avoiding his eyes as she spoke, staring at the sidewalk instead. Still her gaze would occasionally flicker towards him.

Her concern was more comforting than the food. The muscles in his face were starting to respond again and he managed a lopsided smile. "Not really. People aren't where I left them." It was true enough, although his meaning was more different than she could guess.

"I suppose we forgot, but you musta had friends here. Do you, are you thinkn the government got them," her hand clutched at his sleeve in a nervous gesture.

"I don't think so," Harry said evenly. He didn't expand and the others seemed too uncomfortable to pursue things.

"Well I say we tear this town apart. It's only ten o'clock, got the raw deal with the time change, all fun places probably aren't open...but we've probably got a few hours before we got to get back and the teachers miss us...Lets take a look around." Pyro's energy seemed somewhat boundless, he quickly pushed aside worries and embraced any amusement.

"Sure, I'm up for some wandering," He agreed.

Harry had been to muggle London once on a school field trip. His lunch had been stolen and Pier Polkiss had squirted mustard in his hair. He had been forced to ride with the teacher while on the bus, as no one wanted to sit with him, but that had been fine because the teacher didn't hit him like Dudley would. All and all it had been a pretty good day. Traveling around with the Mutants was a little more fun.

With some handy Notice-Me-Not charms they'd snuck aborad a double-decker bus. It was mostly only inhabited by tourists with cameras and fanny-packs. Rogue had dragged them up to the top. They only road back down Charing Cross before getting off at Trafalgar square.

The other teenagers weren't particularly interested in the history of the square, Pyro had no idea that there had even been Napoleonic Wars. Nelson's Colum was of some interest, although they didn't know who Admiral Nelson was. Rogue was quick to point out that Harry's knowledge of US history was also lacking. The buildings surrounding the square, while admired for their 'old fashioned' look, didn't draw much attention.

The statue of Alison Lapper, a nude depicting a pregnant armless figure was considered somewhat gross and a complete waste of a nude.

"Too bad it isn't the David," Rogue commented with a smirk.

Bobby got the reference but only widened his eyes before quickly crossing back to drag Pryo away from the Lions under the column. He seemed to think it would be a good idea to ride one.

"Ah, Harry's still got the whammy on us, it's not like they'd notice." Pyro was dragged away regardless.

"They're bound to catch you in their pictures," commented Bobby. He gestured to the tourists who where milling about snapping photos and congregating around the stone walls. A school trip had made it to London and most of the children were ignoring the history and chasing pigeons.

"That's a good idea actually." Pyro pulled free and darted into a group shot of three young blondes. He flashed his middle finger and grinned as the photo clicked.

Bobby grabbed the young man's coat, tugging him away from the buxom blondes. "Cut it out, did you forget about the vivisections we can look forward too."

"Ah come on man," Pyro grumbled. "If I'd wanted to take this tour with a teacher I'd have asked one to come along."

"Just cool it," Bobby ordered.

"Too hot," the fiery mutant answered with a smile.

"Check this out," Rogue interrupted. Harry stood behind her with raised eyebrows.

"Souvenirs," she said pointing out a cart that had settled itself not far from them.

With a wave of a hand Harry canceled the Notice-Me-Not charm. "We're all eyes again," he warned the others.

The cart sold the usual collection of souvenirs, hats and buttons proudly showing the Union Jack, a Bobble head of some female politician (humorous enhancements included), miniatures of Nelson's Column, and plenty of t-shirts.

The three mutants picked though the wares debating between what they wanted to buy and what they could afford. Pyro found a black shirt with the Tower of London done with the colorings of the flag.

Rogue was looking at a cute bear wearing the uniform of the police. "He's cute...but considering what the police would do if they found us...not really a comforting bear." She placed the toy back on the stand and started looking through a box of buttons.

Bobby proudly claimed a hat with the Union Jack, putting it on and looking like a right idiot. Still he seemed happy enough and Rogue quickly found a matching hat.

"Wish we'd brought a camera." The one girl among them admitted.

"We can come back some other time," Harry said. "But perhaps now we'd better go."

Somewhere a clock chimed and the teenagers were reminded that morning was coming in New York, and they might need a few hours of sleep to avoid any detection the next day. Harry ushered them to an alley before finding another piece of trash to make into a Portkey.

For a moment, while the others were busy discussing what they had done and arguing over who had the better souvenir, Harry looked back out the London street.

"Ready Harry?" Bobby asked.

Harry nodded, "Yeah lets go."

"Home again, Home again," Rogue chanted. She yawned and leaned against Bobby's shoulder, "It's a good thing we don't have school tomarra, I'm too tired."

Harry agreed. Finding a random piece of trash, a soda can this time, he discreetly cast the charm for a portkey. The gang touched the can a little more

Soon they were rushing through a wind tunnel, the wind whipped their hair about and Rogue's face became lost in the tangle of red that engulfed her. They teenagers managed a little better this time. Not nearly as much screaming anyway, and they were finally dumped just outside Mutant High, a place that was thankfully still cloaked in darkness.

"Couldn't you just have easily dropped us indoors?" Pyro grouched, yawing into his hand as they began trudging back inside.

Harry paused, "Hmm, didn't really think about it," he allowed. Just short sightedness he supposed, Hogwarts never allowed you to portkey onto the grounds. Not unless the portkey was made by the headmaster anyway. A quick and silent spell had them sneaking through the previously locked gates that guarded the school and making their way to the school.

"You know— yawn, I have to say you do come in handy Harry." Pryo slung an arm around the other boy, staggering when Harry batted him away.

They were almost at the entrance to the school when a bright light flashed on flooding the small courtyard with a harsh glare that made them shut their eyes quickly. Harry raised his arm above his head to create some shade, allowing him to see a figure standing in the doorway.

The stunning spell was almost set flying again but a voice quickly caused him to lower his hand guiltily.

"And where have you been?" Scott's voice seemed to tower over the other teenagers as they shrunk away nervously.

Cyclops stepped down, joining them below. His expression was difficult to read as looked down at them; an even more radical looking form of eye wear, almost like something out of star trek, managed to hide much of his reaction.

They blinked adjusting to the light.

"Uh...out for a walk?" Pyro suggested.

"Getting some night air," Bobby agreed.

"Couldn't sleep," Rogue added.

Harry stared forlornly at the teacher, he was dressed in the same leather outfit that he had met Storm and Wolverine in. Somehow seeing Scott clad in leather like this was really killing some of the better fantasies he'd devised involving Storm.

"A walk," a new voice questioned. Jean appeared behind Scott, not wearing leather but dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt. Harry wasn't certain if he was relieved by that fact or not. She arched an eyebrow in the dim light taking in their forms with a steely eye.

She raised her hand and the two silly hats Bobby and Rogue were sporting landed in her grasp, the colors of the Union Jack revealed even in the semi-darkness.

"Somehow I doubt that," she said coldly.

-

"Totally worth it," Pyro decreed while scrubbing down one of the tables in the cafeteria. He dunked his rag into a bucket of warm water and wiped at a particularly disgusting bit of grim.

"Agreed," Rogue nodded. She pushed a broom around the floor without much concentration.

"They'd never be able to guess how much we got away with," Bobby agreed, a somewhat jittery smile showing he'd really enjoyed his first bout of severe rule breaking.

"It's too impossible for us to get in trouble for it," Pyro agreed.

Harry stared absently at the same spot he'd been rubbing for the last minute. He really doubted that they had gotten away with it, after all their headmaster was a mind reader. Still they all seemed content to think that they'd managed such an adventure and only been assigned a week of lunch-duty cleanup as punishment.

Finally Harry cast a Scourgify charm on the table he was supposed to be washing and sat down.

Magic didn't seem to exist.

Well that was pants. Harry tried for a moment but couldn't find himself feeling any more upset about it. The absence of magic wasn't really hurting him, despite how much he may love it. He was however somewhat lost about what he was supposed to do now. He'd taken it for granted that he could return to the magical world and try and find his parents, godfather and friends. And that was what he missed the most when he hadn't seen Hogwarts on that hill. It had taken him a bit but he'd realized it, uncomfortably.

It was unusual though, it was hard to imagine a world without magic.

Harry looked across the room as Pyro seemed to get into a fight with Iceman, it was a common occurrence between them. Sparked by their very opposite personalities but their bickering never broke out into anything serious. The fire mutant launched a ball of fire at his friend, one which Bobby caught and turned into a ball of ice. He dropped the chunk onto the floor where it shattered. Rogue came over with her broom cursing both boys and swiping the handle in their direction as if it were a sword.

But the show had Harry thinking: were these worlds really that different? True, magic was more versatile, but in the end it was the same thing. Power. And while mutants were chained into only having one ability, they seemed to be able to hone that one attribute into something that could surpass its magical counterpart. And no need for a wand. Maybe whatever it was that made magic had found a way in this world as well.

"Harry, you done?" the others approached looking at the tables he was supposed to be cleaning.

"Yeah," he dismissed, the surfaces were quite sparkling. Ah the wonder of cleaning charms, really could have used those when he was a kid.

"Are you hearing about the results of your tests today?" Rogue asked. She took a seat next to him while Bobby and Pyro examined the tables suspiciously.

"Clean, too clean," Pyro muttered under his breath, running a finger along the gleaming surface before giving Harry a scrutinizing glance.

"Yeah," Harry answered Rogue's question.

He was a little distracted by his previous thoughts and was a little shocked when the girl patted his shoulder comfortingly, "Don't worry, I'm sure you did well." She'd mistaken his disinterest for worry, but Harry didn't try and contradict her.

"More like failed," Pyro said, sitting down as well.

"Don't be so mean," Rogue chastised, swatting him with a gloved hand."

"What, he hasn't been to school since, how old were you?"

"Eleven," Harry answered.

Silence.

"Well, I'm sure you did well," Bobby stated without much enthusiasm.

"You're screwed," Pryo offered his opinion with a grin.

Harry laughed cynically, "It really doesn't matter." Very little did actually. But as Harry sat surrounded by people, in a home that welcomed him, he was wondering if he'd got that all wrong. Maybe this did matter.

-

A few rooms over Rogue moved through the halls, finally stumbling upon something that looked promising. It was a lounge of some kind where the younger mutants were gathering, and blissfully lacking of the teachers, and importantly Wolverine. She'd exhausted her ability to gather information outside and had decided to risk a trip indoors for the moment. She had learned little thus far, a group of boys playing basketball had spent much of their time talking about girls and impugning the others' sexual prowess while triumphing their own. She'd nearly been found out by laughing at them, boys. She'd managed to overhear a few teens who had been playing with a frisbee mention an attack on the school only the other night, but the students seemed eager to forget that and had quickly moved on to other things. She'd hidden for a moment, but they hadn't returned to the topic. Still...an attack, what exactly had Magneto planned?

But this area would likely be a better spot to get information, provided she could avoid any recognition. It was after lunch and the students seemed to have returned to whatever trivialities they had been pursuing before the noon meal. Mostly card games and few students reading quietly or watching TV. One scene did catch her eye.

"I'm so glad you're alright!" one blonde girl said, embracing a smaller redhead.

"We were all so worried," another girl added, joining the hug with that easy manner that young girls can.

"I'm fine," the girl squeaked, she seemed to be having trouble speaking.

"Thank goodness Harry helped you," the blonde said, she shook her head and bit her lip as if imagining the alternative.

"He must be very powerful, you know," the redhead confided the faintest trace of an Irish accent. "Thee doctors couldn't find a mark on me, even though Dr. Jean had them run every test in the book."

One of the girls spotted Rogue and grinned broadly, she gestured with her shoulder in a welcoming manner.

Rogue smiled gently before slipping away. She closed the door behind her. She looked around the empty hallways cautiously before chancing a shift in her appearance. This time as a boy she'd impersonated before. He walked back outside, his thoughts muddled. Despite this his feet moved swiftly. There was only had a small window before the Professor returned and it'd be good to be gone by now. It was too dangerous to risk more here at Xavier's school. Wolverine, Xavier and now this Harry. There were simply too many variables at work.

Back to the original plan.

-

In her lab, which was located in the second underground level, Jean Gray uttered a curse of extreme annoyance. In her younger years the frustration might have been enough to shatter objects and kick up something that looked like a windstorm. But she was more composed now, and frankly some of the equipment down here was worth more than the entire mansion. So she took a deep breath and pushed the red button again. It couldn't be helped that she pushed it harder than was needed.

A quiet noise came up behind her and she felt her ire settle some, the noise of wheels gliding across the smooth floor always refocused her.

"Any luck?" Xavier asked softly. He didn't need to be a mind reader to take in her stiff posture and obvious tension.

"This is impossible, it must be broken," she answered, wanting desperately to kick the foul machine but restrained herself yet again.

"Impossible?" Xavier asked, he moved toward her until he was seated beside the monitor, looking at the same little bar that was indicating the processing of genetic material.

A sign popped up, along with a detailed listing of standard information. But as Jean scrolled down she cursed again.

"I've run it through several times now and the read out was just as baffling the first as it was the twelfth," Jean worried her lip as she stared at the machine.

"What _do_ we know," her mentor asked, probing in that calming way that Jean found irritating at the moment.

"Well, if it is any consolation, he's human. He's not a silicon based life form or pod person. In fact, he's too normal. There are no mutations, at least none I can find to any of his genetic structure. There is only this– " she pointed her finger at a whited out portion on the screen, the image which was supposed to have produced a graphic representation of a DNA helix. It was for this feature alone that the machine rung in at over a hundred million. It wasn't exact, the DNA strand was too long for such detailed mapping, but it created a generalized image that helped explain mutation to younger students.

"Is there a flaw with the equipment?" Xavier asked, looking closely at the screen trying to discern why there was, in essence, nothing represented.

"I ran my own blood to be certain, everything is functioning normally.

"With his sort of powers I'd expect to see a great deal of alteration. In most cases there are two typical differences to expect," Jean knew the Professor knew this but he seemed willing to listen to her train of thought. "Usually we see either structural changes to the nucleotides or in most cases a different nitrogenous base, the so called 'x-gene'."

Jean rolled her eyes in an annoyed fashion, any student of genetics knew it would be impossible for one gene to create so many different abilities. In traditional genetics there are four different kinds of nuclitaides, each alike excepting for a differing nitrogenous element: cytosine, adenine, thymine, and guanine. These nitrogenous bases were what linked to each other, resulting in a long double helix chain. However most mutants utilized bases not normally found in typical DNA, still derived in some extent from nitrogen, but also essentially different. These new nuclitides and their resulting combinations were laughingly called X-genes by some of the geneticists who first identified them, but it seemed the general public gladly accepted the term, choosing simplification over fact.

"But alterations are normally in correlating places. Your mutation is seen in aspects that are known to influence brain activity and development. With the mapping of the human genome we know where to look for alterations...and he just doesn't have any where we would expect."

"Where are you looking?" the Professor asked, he himself was having trouble pinning down what Harry's mutation was supposed to be."

"How about healing, I've seen him do that myself. I've studied Wolverine's blood and his DNA indicates significant changes to this portion of the DNA strand," Jean magnified the image.

"Nothing, not a single element out of line. He can block your mental ability so I examined that area, nothing. There is only one major difference— That." Once again se pointed at the bleached out portion of the screen, there was something about that area that didn't seem to be reacting well to the machine that was supposed to be analyzing it.

"Do we know what that portion usually influences?" Xavier asked, peering closely.

Jean fiddled with the keyboard, a frown already on her face. In a moment a group of line and text overlay the image, specific potions of the code were marked for different purposes.

"That is bizarre," Xavier said softly.

"That portion that isn't being read, it shouldn't exist. No other human has something like this. I printed out a more basic analysis, nothing is missing he just seems to have this 'blank" space. Normally I'd assume that it is nothing, maybe it is a glitch, but the machines are telling me there is a lack of something." She tugged on her red hair realizing how convoluted the explanation was. How do you explain that nothing is where nothing should be?

Charles Xavier became very pensive, he looked at the screen and wasn't quite able to feel the same frustration Jean did.

"He said we probably wouldn't understand," he said offered quietly.

"You're willing to accept that?" Jean continued to gaze at the monitor as she spoke.

"For the moment we have no choice."

Jean turned to face him, "Disregarding his nocturnal excursions, he has been some help to us. I can't imagine what we would have done if Syren..." she swallowed suppressing that worry harshly. "He is powerful though," she said hesitantly.

Xavier merely nodded.

Jean ran a hand through her hair, "At least we won't have to worry about Magneto finding out about him," she stated.

"If he doesn't already know," the Professor mused.

"How could he...?" Jean let the conversation drop. Her fingers lazily typed on the keyboard, saving the little information they had gathered. She couldn't help but bring up the visual representation once again. It was still as uninformative as it had been previously.

The pair stayed still for a moment longer, looking at nothing, in the place where nothing should be. Harry Potter had stumbled into their lives, and as of yet it was impossible to know what that would mean.

-

-

A/N: Before the storm of outrage emerges, I hope all lovers of the X-gene take a peek at this blog entry. I stumbled upon it while doing some X-men and genetics research. It helped to shape my thoughts involving this portion of the X-men genre. If you really want to argue with me I suggest you read it first. I think some people out there will enjoy this direction, as I did.

roar-of-comics(dot)blogspot(dot)com(slash)2006(slash)08(slash)why-i-hate-mutant-gene(dot)html


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: A Tiring Week

-

The school bells had rung, and people where running to wherever it was they needed to be, except for one young man who didn't have anywhere to be yet. Actually Harry Potter probably did have somewhere to be, or rather the teachers had likely arranged something for him. Thankfully he didn't know it yet so he could happily feign ignorance and do what he liked. He'd said goodbye to his friends as they hurried to their own classes and had since been considering a bit of grand theft auto. (And while some students may have assumed Harry meant a vicarious video game— well, Harry had never played a video game.)

Harry ducked behind a chair as he spotted the white hair of a certain teacher as she roamed down the halls, her eyes seemed to be searching for something, or rather someone. Harry sat on the floor as people passed him. Some teenagers paused to glance his way curiously but most were too busy with their own issues to worry about the kid who was hiding behind a chair. Teenagers, so self-absorbed.

Harry peeked from behind his chair. Storm was gone.

He leaned back, stretching his legs into the now rather empty hall. He laughed at himself lowly; it wasn't quite the game of hide-and-seek he had always dreamed about, but it was close. As a boy he had always had a sick sort of fascination for the game, largely due to the twisted version he and his cousin played. Hide-and-seek in the Dursley home was a rather bloody game indeed. The end usually involved Harry cringing while Dudley's friends held his arms and his cousin got in a few punches to Harry's face or stomach.

But Harry wasn't that boy anymore.

The halls were quiet now, there was a low mummer coming from a classroom not far away and it sounded almost soothing. But Harry didn't have any desire to be there. Rather, this quiet would give him a good opportunity to put things in perspective. Not his favorite pastime, but recent revelations required him to consider some things. Or at least that was what his inner Hermione was telling him.

He hadn't had a moment to think things through since he had gotten back from Britain. Bobby and Pyro, while amusing guys and quite good room mates, had been pretty excited by their trip to London. It seemed every moment was now filled with either plans for future trips or conversations reliving the previous. Harry did his best to not dull the mood. But he was facing an unavoidable fact. While he had returned to the UK, it hadn't been home. And that was something he had to face.

Face yes, but it didn't mean that he had rethink everything. After all, he had ventured into the veil for _two_ reasons.

Primarily he had wanted to escape his own world. After defeating Voldemort he had no interest in staying there; it had been bad enough being the boy-who-lived and the Chosen One, he could only imagine what he'd be called now that he'd been victorious. Would they make him into some sort of Dumbledore figure, a national monument? And would he really want to spend the rest of his life as _that? _That was supposing that the Ministry hadn't found a reason to lock him in Azkaban for the rest of his days.

But the secondary reason had been more complicated, he'd hoped to come here and find a place among his family, friends and Sirius— even more stupidly, maybe it had been an attempt to chase after_ his_ Sirius. He said it was stupid right? But it was the sort of thing that little orphan boys dream about. And, foolish as it was, it had been Harry's dream once. And on that terrible day, when he saw the chance to make it come true, he'd reflexively taken the jump.

It came down to questioning which of his reasons for leaving mattered more? If it was just about getting away from his own world, well this one wasn't so bad. True, they had their own wars and issues bubbling dangerously, but who didn't eh? Harry wasn't looking for Utopia. And it also had people that Harry was starting to like, people that had willingly taken him in. And he wasn't foolish enough to dismiss that. He might not be the same boy he'd been once upon a time, but he hadn't given up the old idea that people matter. He'd cast it aside in leaving his own world, but was he willing to do it again in a steadier frame of mind?

And he couldn't forget that he was a nobody here, and that was something precious. He also might have a bit of an advantage with his special 'mutation'. His magic would give him more than enough power to set himself up in whatever incarnation he liked. If he were the ambitious sort, he might think now was a good time to take over England. The English mutants were just waiting for a force to come and lead them, a powerful figure that could take the reigns and fight back against the persecution they suffered.

But he was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. World domination wasn't quite his area of expertise. Still, it did make a nice daydream. But his life goals were a little more moderate and someone with his skills in this sort of world could make things happen.

All and all, it had been years since things had looked as fortuitous for Harry Potter.

But if what he really wanted lay more in his second reason, reclaiming lost family and friends, well then . . .

To settle here, or to try again? He knew he couldn't go back, he wasn't stupid. That door was shut, and he didn't mind if it stayed locked. But another jump, another world, he could still find what he was looking for. It might be only one jump away. That was a tantalizing thought.

"Harry?" Professor Xavier's voice seemed rather loud amongst the thoughts in his head.

"Lo' Professor," Harry greeted, rubbing his forehead and looking up.

"This is a curious place to sit," the man commented.

Harry looked about, he was alone in a hallway opposite a painting of empty cliffs. There was nothing symbolic in that. But then he supposed the professor had a point, siting on the floor behind a chair was hardly customary.

"We were hoping to discuss your test scores with you today." Xavier tilted his head as he watched Harry with those same warm eyes.

Harry got to his feet rubbing his back as he did so, "Alright, you caught me professor," he fell into step while the principal of Mutant High rolled on ahead.

The professor's office was empty when they entered, Xavier found a place behind his desk while Harry settled into one of the chairs that were before it. They waited in silence. Harry looked at the office and yawned. It was quite boring really. Dumbledore's office had always been full of interesting gadgets and magical oddities. Charles Xavier's office was simply too normal by Harry's standards to attract much attention.

"How are you adjusting here?" the Professor asked kindly.

"Fine, sir," Harry replied without thinking.

The mutant nodded his bald head, those same curious eyes watched Harry in a manner that was a little disconcerting.

"There you are," Storm entered. She was dressed in her teacher clothes, which weren't as much fun as the leather ensemble, although . . . they had potential. "I was looking for you, we need to arrange a schedule for you."

Harry's eyes widened, "I did well enough to go to class?"

Storm settled herself in a chair and crossed her legs, her lips flickered into a smile before her expression mellowed. "Well, your subject tests told us that you aren't ready to sit in with your grade level. You'll need some tutoring to get caught up."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Caught up?" Was that even possible at this point?

Strom gave him a sharp glance. "You have every chance of catching up with your peers, while your test scores were low your IQ test tells us a different story. You're not nearly as stupid as you'd have us believe," she smiled to soften her words.

Harry grinned, "So I'm a genius, am I?" he asked cheekily.

Storm closed her eyes, "Hardly, but you are above average, given the proper tutoring you shouldn't have much trouble joining some classes with your peers."

Harry shrugged, "Okay."

"Aren't that eager to resume your education?" the professor asked.

"I guess I'm just not sure how much it will matter, given the circumstances." Harry said allowing a bit of honesty to rise to the surface.

Neither the Professor nor Storm seemed ready to tackle that question and so Harry turned to Storm, "What am I doing today?"

"Science with Jean," she said. "She'll meet you in the rec room after lunch."

Harry rose to his feet.

"And Harry, I've been meaning to speak with you . . . " Xavier paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. "About your mutation— "

That was a direction Harry had hoped the conversation wouldn't move to.

"I think perhaps your prudence was the wisest course. For the time being at least, we will try and keep some of your abilities quiet."

The Professor's tone left Harry little doubt that the man knew of the little trip he and his room mates had taken.

"Why sir," he asked, feigning innocense. Harry recalled that not too long the Principal of Mutant High had taken on a Dumbledore stance and encouraged him to share with his friends.

Xavier looked thoughtful once again, he seemed hesitant about meeting Harry's eyes. "I suppose it is just an old man's worry that someone with your . . . abilities may attract unwanted attention. The world— " the man paused again, "The world is changing, faster perhaps than I may have expected. The attack here at the school, the problems overseas, all these things are happening very quickly. I don't want to see you caught in the middle."

Caught in the middle, Harry wondered, or do you just not want anyone else using me. Harry felt the familiar strings fastening themselves around him. But he'd already played puppet for the greater good. He wouldn't say he'd regretted it. He wouldn't say that things hadn't gone well. He might even have done the same over again. He didn't hate Dumbledore, he wasn't going to piss and moan about being the man's weapon, about being the wizarding world's tool.

But Harry wasn't that boy anymore.

"Thanks professors," Harry allowed before leaving.

As Harry strode purposefully through the halls he was met with one definite thought in his mind. It wasn't a pleasing thought, but it was one that did free up some of his mental processing.

His answer had been staring him in the face.

As he moved toward his destination he tried to enjoy the decision he had reached and not feel despondent. He had a few hours before he would have to meet Jean and he wasn't about to waste them bumming about the rec room watching TV.

When he arrived at his destination, Harry was glad that the garage was empty, he passed the expensive cars and headed to the locked box that held the keys. It had been fixed, or more likely replaced since Wolverine's burglary. Someone had also attached a sign that read in large letters.

PROPERTY OF (REAL) TEACHERS

ALL OTHERS DO NOT TOUCH

Harry flicked his wrist, the unlocking charm allowed the door to swing open and his finger made a gesture that levitated the key off the hook. He caught it in his hand, "Didn't touch," he stated with a grin. He had a feeling that Wolverine would have gotten a kick out of that and was surprisingly disappointed that he hadn't been there to witness it. But the man was off doing some sort of mission for Xavier, he was probably the only one who could given it, the other X-men seemed preoccupied playing teacher. It was a strange way to run a resistance group Harry thought.

I wasn't long before Harry was speeding on a sleek black and silver bike, his tires cutting through the country roads, staying on the ground this time. He needed this, he knew he did. It was this sort of freedom that left him breathing faster, thinking clearer. The adrenaline rush that it provided was too much a part of whom he was to deny it. A part of him wondered if he dashed into dangerous situations for the same sort of high. Because so much else left him feeling a little numb.

He liked this world, but the answer was obvious. He might never get what he wanted here, and why stay when infinite possibilities beckoned? Why risk becoming another player in this world's war? As he turned his bike around, he saw bits of the school's brickwork peeking through the trees. Harry sensed a bit of sadness coming from his choice. And while it shouldn't, it surprised him.

-

Of course, jumping through the veil was proving more complicated than one might expect.

Harry stood with his tennis shoes over the yellow 'do not cross' line. A few of his fellow tube travelers rolled their eyes at him, muttering about teenagers. But as the train rolled into the London station Harry didn't board, rather he remained standing as he had been, ignoring the people that bustled past him as he continued to stare at the place where a mystical gateway to another world _should_ be.

As a man that smelled faintly of piss and booze shuffled past muttering to himself, Harry realized just how ridiculous this sounded. He was heartily glad that he knew Occlumency because any mind reading headmaster would probably have him committed.

He yawned trying to forget that it was past two based on his internal clock. Once again he'd snuck away to London in the middle of the night, this time without his mates in tow. A gentle sleeping spell, one which he refused to feel guilty about (really), was ensuring that Pryo and Bobby would sleep soundly in their beds for the next few hours. His refusal to feel guilty was linked to his own tiredness, as he'd much rather be in their places at the moment. But he needed to come here and observe the situation, he'd been hoping that his previous brush with death in this very station had him not remembering correctly. But he was remembering rightly, the veil wasn't visible here and everything was seeming more pointless as he stood staring blankly ahead.

In his world the veil had been, _well_, a veil. Somewhat creepy looking perhaps but a lot of things buried in the department of Mysteries tended to look a tad creepy. In this world, however, the gateway was completely invisible and seeing as great big muggle trains weren't accidently being shunted into another dimension led Harry to believe that the veil wasn't working either. Harry had tried to get as many angles of the thing as he could, aside from stepping on the tracks (yet), but for all he could tell there was nothing there but air.

Still, he was having a hard time not being pleased with himself. At least he hadn't burned any bridges this time. He had slipped away in the night allowed him an easy way back in. Maybe Wolverine's little speech had impacted him more than he thought. True it had been a chore having to sit through Jean's science lecture but it was paying off now as he stared blankly at the nothing where something should be.

Not that he'd changed his mind, while fully intending to leave both Mutant High and the world that housed it, Harry had become accustomed to nice things like a bed and three square meals a day. He'd tried it the other way, and while starving on the streets might free up some of his time, he'd prefer the comfort that Mutant High had to offer. At least until he'd figured out this little snag in his plan. Of course, Harry knew that there were other options, someone with his skills wouldn't find burglary or pickpocketing particularly hard, but he was still part Gryffindor golden boy so stumbling into something so dishonest set his teeth on edge. He'd much rather endure his lessons during the day and sneak out at night than sink to thievery, unless he was forced to that point.

He really didn't want to be forced to that point.

And there was no reason he would have to be. The mutants were more than willing to give him a home, and while he'd initially been a little disinclined about taking their hospitality, well, he had come in handy when they were attacked. He wouldn't put it that they owed him . . . but he wasn't feeling guilty about letting them pay for some clothes anymore. (And did he mention the vast array of luxury automobiles parked in their garage, they weren't exactly hurting for cash.)

Harry was shoved as one rather round man in a tweed suit banged into him. It wasn't hard to see why, the man's face was hidden behind a newspaper, despite that he didn't bother apologizing for nearly knocking Harry over; instead, a gruff "Watch where you're standing," came from the newspaper.

Harry took a step away from the irritable commuter. Once again he'd arrived in the morning hours, he'd already had to deal with a few perturbed businessmen and women as they moved through London on the way to work.

"Ruddy kids, ought to be in school, I blame the parents," the newspaper continued to mutter. Not seeming to mind if it was overheard. "Hanging around, like it hasn't been hassle enough having the station closed for two days while they investigated."

Harry paused, "Sorry," he interrupted the man's muttered complaints. "Investigated for what?"

"Two freaks were carted out of this very platform," the faceless voice answered. "Just as well, don't want their kind mucking up the city, about time they started cleaning up the trash."

"Two— They found _two_ mutants here."

"Do I look like a ruddy newspaper?" the man replied from behind his copy of the_ London Globe_.

Harry was tempted to reply that, indeed, he did.

The man uttered a heavy sigh, as if Harry had asked that he move the rock of Gibralter, "All I know is that a couple of days ago they closed this terminal, had to walk all the way to South Kensington to hitch on. All because of two freaks." For once the man lowered his newspaper and used it to swipe at Harry, "Now move on you time waster, go and do something productive."

Harry swallowed, his eyes budging rather uncomfortably as he watched the man waddle away and finally board a train that had pulled into the station. While he was clean shaven, Vernon Dursley was very much the same here as he was back home. The man was just as hateful and ill-tempered about anything outside of what he considered normal.

Harry swallowed.

Vernon was_ here_? That was hardly cheerful but did prompt some questions. Like how a sodding Dursley could be here when Hogwarts wasn't? How could the entire universe change and something like Vernon Dursley could still exist in practically the same manner as he always did.

This emotional backlash was all covering the really important thing of course, because while it was possible for one Dursley to be just as horrible as the next, it was slightly more impossible that another 'mutant' just _happened _to be captured in the same tube station that housed a dimensional gateway. He might be jumping to conclusions, but he didn't think so. Someone had followed him through the veil. Someone had come after him. But why? And who? Harry gazed at the still empty piece of air. If they had, perhaps they knew how to get back through a veil when it didn't technically exist.

Harry glanced back at his watch, it was getting late, or early depending on your frame of time. If he wanted to get a few hours sleep before classes tomorrow then he had to head back to the school now. He had English and History with Storm, which would be some interesting educating there. Why had Hogwarts never employed someone who—never mind Lockheart was supposed to be a sex symbol of some sort, wasn't he? And who could forget Umbridge's pink cardigans.

And while it made all the sense in the world to go, it was a hard sell. Harry repeated all the reasons he had for staying there, trying to calm his strong desire to discover who exactly had came after him. He'd have to rest for a bit before finding the answer to that riddle.

-

Yawn. Harry struggled to keep his eyes open as his vision blurred. Having only three hours of sleep made it rather hard to read the small print of the _Evening Standard _he had snagged from a rubbish bin before leaving the other night. He was currently flipping through the pages hoping to find a comment about the mysterious mutant that had been captured at the tube station. So far no luck, it had been difficult to discover much 'news' at all. Most of the paper seemed to be devoted to some female politician who had instigated the new Mutant Act that was crippling the city. She was followed around almost as if she was royalty. Madam Speaker Chand at the Races. Madam Chand Speaks to Workers Union. Chad Hosts Rally for Human Rights. Harry skipped past her, not really interested in what this world's queen bigot was doing.

It wasn't until he reached the last page of the news section that he found a small article.

_Victoria Underground Reopened_

_Victoria Underground Station was reopened Thursday. While the London Underground (LU) and Network Rail announced that the station was merely down for some planned upgrades, sources close to the City of London Police s claim the closure was linked to the recent Mutant arrests in the station. Sources indicate that the two arrests may point to a possible pattern, and may provide a key location for the unauthorized Mutants still residing in Greater London. _

_Two mutant arrests occurred in the Victoria Station this month. Both individuals were found on the tracks and quickly attested and detained. A spokesman for the Mutant Task Force claim that no damage was done to the tracks and London commuters can ride securely. _

Found on the tracks, which could only mean one thing in Harry's mind. He was right, and this wasn't a coincidence. Someone had come through the veil.

"Morning Harry," Rouge's voice also sounded a little sleepy as she settled her tray of food across from him.

"Morning," he greeted casually. "Tired?"

Rogue shrugged, "More like annoyed. Parent Daze is emerging."

"Pardon?" he asked.

Rogue had already taken a bite of food and she gestured with her hands as she chewed, finally she swallowed, "It's time for the Parent Days, and the general malaise will settle over the school til it's over."

"Wish they would just cancel it," Kitty said taking a seat next to Rogue. "Although it's nice to see my family."

Harry was still a little confused, he set his newspaper down and looked at the two girls across from him. "Mind explaining to the new guy?" he prodded.

"Sorry," Kitty answered sheepishly, she fiddled with one of her earrings. "Well, since we're a private boarding school, the professor arranged for a day when parents could come and see what their kids are learning, see their rooms, just catch up I suppose."

"Doesn't sound that bad," Harry said helping himself to more juice.

Rogue sighed, "Maybe it wouldn' usually be. But it's Parent _Days_, plural. The Professor has two of them. The first day is for the parents who know their kids are mutants and going to Mutant High, and the other is for those who haven't _'come out of the closet', _so to speak." She looked a little dour at the last.

"And on the second day people have to be . . . normal" Kitty pronounced this somewhat compassionately. "And it also makes it a bit awkward for those who don't, well, for those who don't really have any parents or such to come." Kitty looked toward the food line where Pyro was filling his plate with eggs and rashers of bacon.

"So it makes a terrible week," Rogue stated. She bit into her toast and looked away.

"So, do you have parents coming?" Harry inquired.

"I do," Kitty answered. "Fist dayers. My Mom actually thinks its sort of cool."

Harry nodded, he noticed Rogue still looked a little grumpy.

"They're thinkin' about it," her southern accent became a little more distinctive when she was worried he noticed and she spent most of the time looking at her plate. "They're not certain how they feel about it, and I gave them a pretty bad shock when I first found out about it. And my mutation isn't exactly somethin' that can seem all warm and cuddly."

Pryo chose a seat next to Harry and the girls seemed eager to drop their previous conversation. Kitty started nattering on about some movie star and her drug problem while Rogue ignored her, she was a little preoccupied watching Iceman meander through the food line.

"Sleep well," Harry asked his room mate.

Pryo nodded, "Best night sleep I've had in awhile."

"Me too," Bobby added. He joined their table taking a seat across from Harry and next to Rogue.

However rather than the friendly conversation that usually emerged between the two teens, Bobby's words seemed to cause Pryo to recoil some. The fire mutant hunched his shoulders and took a bigger bite of his food, not seeming to want to look at Bobby. Harry wondered if he had missed something this morning, he'd spent most of his time in a cool shower trying to drown his tiredness away.

But, Bobby took the cold shoulder well, eating his own food in silence.

"Oh, you've got a paper, wonder if they'll mention how long she'll be in rehab for, there is no way that the charges will stick." Kitty reached across and snagged the paper before Harry could stop her.

Kitty rifled through the pages looking for the entertainment section. She examined the headlines with a slight frown on her face before putting her finger on what was bothering her. "Where did you come across a British newspaper?" she questioned, folding the pages until she could read periodical's title.

"Just some news from home," Harry dismissed causally.

Around the table Rogue, Bobby and Pyro sent him accusing looks.

"On the topic of sleep," Pyro mentioned darkly, "You don't look like you got much."

"I'm an insomniac," Harry said raising an eyebrow, daring the people gathered to challenge his assertion.

The three portkey travelers didn't seem particularly convinced. However there was little they could do about the matter and took to shooting him suspicious glances from time to time.

"What classes are you having today?" Kitty broached, trying to insert some conversation into the quiet.

Harry groaned, "Well—

-

Harry would come to appreciate the distraction that his private tutorials offered. Parent Daze, as Rogue had said, was a terminal condition that affected most of the students at Mutant High in one way or another. The normally friendly atmosphere seemed to fracture some as the impending Parent Days approached. Three quarters of the school seemed irritated with those who had yet to reveal their mutation to their parents. There were also a few who thought parents in general were a waste of time, which set them at odds with anyone who had family coming on either day. Many a happy dorm was disrupted with quarrels and arguments.

Harry's own dorm room was hardly an exception. Bobby and Pyro never argued about the coming visit, but they did argue about everything else. The fact that Pryo left his socks lying around, that Bobby listened to girl music, Pyro's stupid way of dressing, Bobby's stupid face . . . things sort of devolved even further after that. It seemed the two couldn't share the same room without breaking into arguments. A few nights Harry had once again cast a sleeping spell on them, not so much to go to London but rather to allow him a few hours without their bickering.

Of course he had gone to London a few more times, squeezing it in at night so that he could attend his lessons during the day. He ended up spending most of the time observing the veil. (Yep, still wasn't there.) But he had also been nicking thrown out newspapers and using other less reputable means to find mention of the mutant that had been captured in the Victoria Underground Station. The fact that the newspapers hadn't made another mention lead Harry to believe that whoever had followed him to this world may not be as handy at escapes as he. Harry dreaded to think that the new arrival had probably been shipped to the northern facility to fill the hole that his absence had caused.

The very secret nature of this facility made it difficult to get information on whomever it was, which lead to the less reputable means.

Harry had spent one evening this week tracking down a few of the Mutant Court employees he had met during his short trial, legilimency had been pointless as it seemed they didn't know where the mutants were sent, and didn't care. Indeed, whomever had followed him hadn't seemed important to the court employees at all. Harry's limited mental magics made it impossible for him to even get an image of who had followed him. He did however garner some rather hideous mental pictures of the overweight judge and a prostitute that couldn't be older than eighteen. (Yes, there was a very good reason not to poke inside people's heads willy nilly.)

It soon became clear how pointless it was questioning the people Harry had come in contact with. Even at his previous prison the only information about the other facility had been the description 'North'. Which, while cancelling out three other directions, was still rather vague. Scotland? Perhaps, but when everything was a possibility and that made narrowing down the list a little daunting.

"Are you paying attention?"

"Uh, of course," Harry agreed, trying to look closely at the open book. What had they been doing again?

Cyclops repeated the directions for foiling an equation and Harry did his best to try and pretend that this sort of thing was useful.

"Make sense?" Cyclops asked. "Why don't you try one?"

Harry nodded, trying to hide a yawn. "Okay." He'd been fiddling with his pencil for the last few moments and only now brought it out and began writing on the tablet of paper. Cyclops had been helping him to work through basic algebra. Something that Harry considered pointless, although not quite for the reasons that some teenagers might.

Still Maths with Cyclops was a rather easy way to spend an afternoon. The shaded mutant tended to involve himself less in Harry's personal life. When he was studying Science with Jean, the doctor kept questioning his obvious fatigue, trying to probe his lack of sleep, sending him caring glances when she asked if he had nightmares.

No, he didn't actually; something she still refused to believe. But he tried to leave the matter alone least she uncover his real reason for feeling sleepy during the day.

"Any word on Wolverine?" Harry asked aloud, finishing up the problem with a decisive stroke.

"Er, not yet," Scott answered not seeming too unhappy about that fact.

The healing mutant was someone else that Harry never minded being around. Storm had arranged for the man to include Harry in some physical education classes once he returned from his recon mission. Frankly, Harry would like a break from the mental exercise and one of a more physical nature sounded like a good escape. Also, Wolverine wouldn't bother him with questions and pity like Storm and Jean were prone to do. And Scott, for his many good qualities, was slightly boring. Too much like an adult, Wolverine was someone fun to get in trouble with. He actually reminded Harry of Sirius in a non-godfather sort of way.

Scott glanced at his watch, "That looks good," he said, looking over Harry's work. "Do problems one through 25 in the section here and we'll go over it tomorrow."

Harry nodded. Thankfully his tutoring sessions never ran long. His teachers were too busy to dedicate much time to his continuing education. Not that they didn't assign him enough homework to make up for the lapse of private attention. Scott hurried from the room, he was late for the AP calculus class he taught before lunch.

Still, Harry was amazed that the X-men made time for him at all. They must be busy: teaching classes, saving people, keeping order in a mansion of teenagers. Harry didn't envy them the task. Playing hero was all well and good, but being saints day in and day out had to be grueling.

Harry wouldn't be able to do it. He flicked lazily through his book, answering the questions and not focusing much attention on them. His classes sometimes took place in an empty classroom, or more often than not they took place in the rec room which was usually abandoned during the day. Being in the rec room did have its advantages, Harry flicked on a radio. The room had a televison too but having been raised with Dudley had given him more that a casual disliking of the dreaded box.

The radio was playing something upbeat and Harry listened to it vaguely wondering if he'd ever paid much attention to music while at Hogwarts. It wasn't long before he was asleep, stretched out in an overstuffed chair. He'd been in London only five hours ago, and man, jet lag was a killer.

An hour oh so later, a slightly-awake Harry yawned, trying to rub some life into his tired eyes. His nap in the rec room had been interrupted when the classes had broken for lunch. Jean hadn't given up on improving his weight so he sluggishly made his way to the cafeteria and joined his friends at the table that had quickly become his. As he ate, he tried to ignore the fact that Bobby and Pyro were ignoring each other.

Really it was better than the alternative. He didn't think he could take another inane fight. The others were less relaxed. Kitty had taken to chatting about anything to relieve the tension, which only made the two boys' silence more pronounced. It also seemed to irrate Kitty but she kept chattering on regardless and had been for the last few days. It was almost amazing how much she could talk, although the topics were rarely of interest. They'd already been treated to a lecture on the importance of moisturizing, proper nail painting procedure and a lesson on nuclear fission and its practical purposes. Yeah, the girl was mental. Harry was waiting for her cheerful veneer to crack, he'd personally estimated that would occur sometime tonight. It would have been something fun to bet on . . . but no one else seemed to find it amusing.

Syren, fully healed, even checked by real doctors to make sure, had rejoined their group and her and Colossus seemed to have sided with Harry in ignoring the issue. Of course their families had been mutants, which might have made it a little easier for them.

They still didn't have much of a sense of humor, and Harry's offer of some harmless betting had met no takers.

"Glad it's Friday tomorrow," Kitty added cheerfully.

Pyro turned an eye on her.

She paled when she realized what Friday was, the first of the dreaded Parent Days. "End of the week," she covered softly adding an awkward little laugh.

"Looking forward to _Mommy_ and _Daddy_ coming?" Pryo asked his voice sounding oddly sweet.

"Uh, yes, actually," she said woodenly.

Pyro didn't add to this, but his expression was one of slight contempt.

"You don't have to take on so," Kitty finally vented, her voice edging on hysterical. "You know there are other people without parents coming and you don't see them snarling at everyone."

Pryo remained moodily silent and Kitty rose to her feet, "I give up," she cried, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and storming out the room.

Harry sighed, it was better not to have gambled. He would have lost, he could have sworn she'd have been able to hold out for a few more hours. Still, as he watched her angry form march away, Harry could understand her frustration, he was growing tired of the uneasiness as well. Of course, he hadn't been trying to cheer everyone up as Kitty had. Which made him a little less annoyed with the continued gloom.

"Mr. And Mrs. Drake going to be seconders again?" Pryo asked stabbing his food as he did so. Harry noted this was the first time Pyro had raised the issue directly with his room mate. As of yet their arguments had never covered the issue at hand, maybe Kitty's snappy remark had finally pushed the issue into the open.

Harry remained quiet watching the discussion, Rogue followed him looking over at Bobby in a concerned manner as the ice mutant put down his fork and looked over at Pryo.

"Yeah," he said defensively.

Harry knew well enough now that 'seconders' were parents who came on the second Parents' Day. In other words, they were the ones that had yet to be informed about their child's mutation. It was also a term that denoted more than a bit of disrespect and animosity among some of the teens.

"If your parents are so great, why don't you tell them?" Pryo prodded, his tone oddly cool.

"I don't know. It's just easier," Bobby dismissed before heading back to his food.

Pyro looked disgusted, "You can't tell them can you?" He raised an eyebrow and his face was shifting into something that looked like a snarl. "You know why exactly. They'd kick you out! They'd say you aren't their son, they'd toss you on the streets and not even care what was going to happen to you." The fire was back in his voice as and a smoldering sort of chuckle was laced with anger.

Harry began to think it was getting a little warm in here. He tugged at his collar as he felt the sweat build on his neck.

"You don't even know them," Bobby answered back, his own expression growing hard.

"I know all I need about _parents_ like that." The word 'parents' issued from his mouth as if it were something foul.

"You're just jealous because yours didn't want you," Bobby growled back, his words surprising even Rogue as she filched away from his side.

The first fireball was shot wide and glanced over Bobby's shoulder with only enough heat to make him draw back, he wasn't even singed. Pyro panted, his lighter in his hand and his eyes reflecting a flame that made him look almost demonic.

"If you think yours will still want you, why don't you tell them? At least be honest about it," he challenged. His voice echoed around the room, very loud since the cafeteria had grown silent after the fireball had seared over Bobby's shoulder and hit the floor.

Thankfully for Pyro's sake, it had been growing late in the lunch hour and there were no teachers present. It probably wouldn't have mattered if there were. Bobby responded fast, he shot a gust of blue that seemed to freeze Pyro's hand. Knowing the ice mutant Harry would hazard to guess that it was more an effort of containment than continued aggression.

It was still the wrong move.

Pyro leapt onto his seat and was looking down at his friend, the still frozen blue hand melting, it seemed that Bobby hadn't put enough force into his blast as Pyro's light hadn't gone out. The lighter still glowed and the flame was blooming in his hand, melting the chill and sending a rush of warm air around them. Pryo didn't take his eyes off Bobby as the flame continued to grow, his hand preparing another fireball. Bobby was bracing himself likewise, the two extreme temperatures of heat and cold were keeping people back.

"Bobby?" Rogue questioned, causing at least one young man's gaze to flicker. "What're you doing?" she questioned.

Bobby faltered some at her words but Pyro was showing no signs of backing down, his anger hadn't been as easy to cool and he let loose the fire that had been growing in his hand. It wasn't as blistering a heat as it could have been but some people in the crowd cried out in alarm as Bobby seemed unprepared for the blast.

It was stupid, but Harry reacted on instinct and caught the flame in his shoulder, hissing as the fire clung to his clothing and he slapped it out even while his skin shined red and raw looking beneath the charred fabric. Pyro's flame went out as he opened his mouth in shock.

"Had enough?" Harry questioned.

"Look what you did!" Bobby cried pointing an accusing finger at Pyro.

Once again their squabble was beginning. Pyro's need to defend his point of view and Bobby's protective streak were clashing as they had been threatening to do for a week.

"Enough!" Harry finally shouted. He was sick of all of this. "Quit being prats and look around. There are people out there who want to kill you for being mutants. You don't need to turn against each other and lend them a bloody hand!"

"He's the one who— "

Harry cut him off with a wave of his hand, he looked to the floor, "Just figure it out soon, there are more important things than this," Harry advised. He had no right to order them around, he just saw things falling apart and had stepped in like always. But he couldn't provide the answers they needed, they were going to have to figure that out on their own. He grabbed his school bag and left the room, hoping that renewed fighting wouldn't spring up in his wake.

Still a part of him was mad, he pressed his lips into a thin line and tried to conjure an image of Hermione to tell him to mind his own business. But it was hard because he wasn't mad at Bobby or Pyro, he just hated the split that had been threatening all week. He hated the tension, and maybe a part of him hated his dumb room mates for giving into it and ruining what a good thing they had going here.

Maybe he should cool down, he shook his head, that was taking it too far. A few bad days didn't change the fact that this was the warmest place he had in this strange new world.

"What's going on in here?" Storm entered, her teacher voice in high gear. Harry heard the other students quickly reclaim their seats and meals, along with a few others who, like him, seemed to decide that exiting would be the best strategy.

"Hey, what happened to you?" The weather mutant asked as Harry tried to move past her.

"Nothing," he dismissed. He healed his shirt as he passed her, leaving no mark of the incident.

He needed to get away. Away from the tedium and the restlessness. Once he was clear of his fellow mutants a loud pop resounded and Harry Potter disappeared.

-

It was odd that there had been something else here, right in the spot that Hogsmeade had been in. Harry passed the charred remains wondering who had lived here and what had happened to turn such a thriving community into a pile of ash. He was tempted to blame it on dragons, but that was a ridiculous notion. He'd been on the lookout and hadn't spotted any magical creatures in this world. Which seemed something of a shame. Not that he'd be missing dementors but hippogriffs and thestrals were alright, and phoenixes could lift the spirit in a way nothing else could. It seemed rather boring and muggle being in a place without them. It reminded him of his Dursley days when notions of such magical creatures had been drummed out of his head.

Harry bit his pizza, wondering why he'd chosen to come here. Of all places?

He dropped the pizza box next to a tree and settled down in the shade. At least this tree seemed to have survived the scorching. It was the afternoon, later than he'd ever stayed in England since his recent move to Mutant High. After having to endure the temper tantrums of his 'fellow mutants' the other day, he'd decided that it might be a good idea for him to clear out for a bit. Lessons had been cancelled anyway, if he was lucky no one would even notice he was gone. He'd arrived in London, just in time to see the dregs of the London night life heading to bed leaving the streets quiet, waiting for Friday to start and people to go to work. London was never empty Harry was learning, but this was about as close as it ever got.

He'd waited around until a very important store had opened and then decided to head to his current location.

Harry looked at the _Pizza Express _box feeling only slighted disappointed now. Perhaps a part of him has still expected there to be something interesting about the former entrance to Diagon Alley, but it had just been a normal pizza place. Although they could make one hell of a pie.

He took another bite of the gooey cheese as he stared out at the empty land that surrounded the charred remains of Hogsmeade. That probably hadn't been its name but there was no one here to correct him.

Seeing as he had all this free time, he wondered how he should use it. Eating pizza was all well and good but he should have a plan of some sort. He did have things to do after all. First and foremost, discover the witch or wizard that had followed him through the veil. He didn't like the idea of leaving whoever it was here. Not as if he could, he sort of needed them to help him determine how to activate the gateway again.

But as he leaned against the bark, watching the tall grass blow in the wind, Harry found himself at a loss for what else he could do about the matter. He'd tried tracking down his sources of information, he'd rifled through the tidbits of information he'd gotten during his own imprisonment. The answer simply wasn't there. If he were James Bond, maybe he'd know some curvy spy to seduce the information out of, that would be one wonderful way to get information. But this wasn't a movie and he wasn't a spy. Also the only people he knew that were tied to the Northen Facility were men, old nasty ones at that. Why couldn't life be more like the movies?

There was a chance that the information he needed was stored in a computer somewhere. Yeah, computers. That was another thing they didn't offer a course on at Hogwarts. He was better at pulling information out of people's heads than he was trying to figure out technology.

Harry rubbed his head. This was hardly his fault, if the Professor and his precious X-men were having trouble figuring out where this facility was then he really shouldn't be expected to be any better. He'd only been in this world for a few weeks and the Professor was telepathic— oh.

Harry smiled. It was simple wasn't it. He wasn't the only one looking for a way to track down this Northern prison. There was a team of highly skilled mutants who were also trying to find it. And they had a telepathic leader. Harry had heard some mention of a device that Xavier had that could find mutants anywhere in the world. Firstly he wasn't certain if he believed that, the information had come from Kitty and he had a difficult time separating the gossiping teenager from the serious genius. But if it was true, that was both really cool and really creepy. He hadn't decided which emotion was more presiding.

But if it helped the professor to locate the missing mutants, and possibly one missing wizard, then Harry would put it on the favorable side. He'd just have to make certain that he went along for whatever rescue mission was in the works. Not that he didn't trust the mutants, they'd more than proved their abilities, he simply didn't want some other wizard to muddy the waters bringing up talk of universal gateways.

They might not be inclined to have a teenager tagging along, but let them try to keep Harry Potter out of a dangerous adventure.

-

"Where have you been?" Rogue hissed in his ear not ten minutes after he returned to the mansion.

"You know, about," Harry said with a grin.

The girl ruffled a hand through the white stripe in her brown hair, apparently deciding to ignore his glib response. "It was just as well I suppose, Pyro refused to stay in the same room with Bobby, it was a real horrible night. I'm just glad that I'm a girl and my room is in a different hallway."

"I'm glad you're a girl too," Harry agreed suggestively, swinging an arm around her waist and nudging her as she fought a smile. She finally shoved him away but she seemed a little less upset after his teasing.

"So any word on the 'folks'?" he asked mimicking Rogue's southern twang.

The frown returned. "They called last night and said they were coming," she said dourly, "And then they called this morning to say they weren't. Something about the car breakin' down south of the Mason Dixie or something."

"At least they tried right," Harry offered.

"Yeah, suppose so." She admitted, but the disappointment was still there.

Harry found himself wondering if there really had been any car problems, but he didn't ask it aloud.

"Did Kitty's parents come?" he asked.

"Yes," Rogue said with a groan, "And they're as nice and supportive as she said. Almost annoyingly really. They're touring the dorms now."

Harry and Rogue continued passing through the halls, a scattering of parents would emerge from time to time. Everyone seemed very happy and excited. Harry couldn't detect a trace of the menace he'd encountered at home. The 'muggles', as it were, seemed more than eager to explore mutation. And it wasn't just parents, brothers and sisters tagged along looking wide-eyed at the people who passed. Harry even spotted one ancient old man who was encouraging a young boy. The boy was building a ball of electricity in his hand, then he hit the wall and the lights overhead flashed. The old man grinned rubbing the boy's head and both laughed when their hair stood on end.

The rec room was perhaps the most crowded Harry noticed but he and Rogue still found a way inside. The teachers had set up some refreshments and the students and their families chatted happily, the foosball table was in high demand as siblings waged war. He could see the basketball hoop from the window and noted that had also been snagged by some of the visiting families. The teacher milled around smiling as they chatted with parents, answering questions and in general making the students very nervous.

Most of these students were people Harry had only met casually, he didn't know them well. Still he felt a warm sort of glow at seeing how accepted they were. He'd come to think that all normal humans hated mutants. But now he realized that there was a wider culture of people who were more than willing to accept their children's new found abilities. There was a friendly curiosity that reminded Harry of the muggleborns' parents he'd seen in Diagon Alley.

He wondered if people were like this in the UK as well. Sure there were terrible politicians that passed these laws, but there must be good honest people like these parents as well.

Harry felt a tug on his hand and looked down.

A little girl with long blonde hair and brown eyes looked up at him. "What can you do?" she asked in a sweet little voice.

"I can heal," Harry said simply.

"Oh," the girl said with some disappointment. "My sissy is strong," she said proudly.

Harry kneeled down, "Yeah."

"Mmhm, she picked up my swing set," she explained. "And she can pick up our dog Rufus, and he's big!" she opened her arms wide to gesture.

Harry looked around hoping to find this strong sister of hers, he caught a glimpse of Rogue and noticed she was smiling in an adoring manner.

The little girl turned to her next, "What can you do?" she questioned.

"Uh . . . " Rogue paused, "I can—uh, heal too," she lied.

"A sure lot of people can do that," the little girl pondered.

"Momo," a soft voice broke through the crowd, "Stop asking people their mutations."

"Don't call me Momo!" the little girl squeaked.

The older blonde girl shook her head resolutely, ruffling the little girl's hair as she tried to run away. Harry recognized the girl named Sam who had come on his shopping trip.

"Sorry about her," Sam apologized. "She just thinks mutation is the coolest thing."

"I'm a mutant too!" Momo called. She climbed up on one of the couches. "I can fly!" she declared. She took a big leap and flapped her arms. But, despite her determination, she landed on the carpet and was forced to continue the charade on the ground.

"Momo," Sam called running after her little sister, "Quit jumping on things."

"Don't call me MOMO!" the little girl shrieked once again.

People around the room laughed and Sam's mother came to collect her daughter, who was still trying to prove that she could fly. Harry chuckled as he watched the family gather together, Sam and Momo quarreling while their parent's endured it with a calm that denoted much practice.

"You have any brothers or sisters?" Harry asked Rogue.

She was watching the little girl fondly, but with a note of sadness on her face and Harry wondered what she was thinking about.

"Nope, just my Mom, Dad and me," she answered.

"Does mutation run in families?" Harry wondered aloud.

Rogue gave him a funny look. "Not always. Bobby has a brother who . . . well I don't think he's a mutant. He's only sixteen, so maybe . . . " she rolled her shoulders. "But sometimes it is. I mean genetically siblings share a lot of the same genes. So, I guess you never know."

Harry grew thoughtful, maybe mutation was more like magic than he's thought. It seemed it could run in families, as it did with purebloods, but there were more occurrences of it popping up. Again Harry found himself wondering how long this evolving things had been going on. A few decades? Or more than that? Had they simply been hiding?

Rogue sighed as she looked around, finally snagging a cookie from the table at the center of the room. "Enjoy today," she advised morosely.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because as nice as today is, Tomorrow is going to be that much worse."

"Ah," Harry said knowingly.

Seconders.

Indeed, the next day was all that had been predicated. Maybe it was what Rogue had said, or maybe it had been Pyro's smoldering silence all morning. But something put Harry on edge before he'd even left his dorm room. Without Bobby in their room (where he'd been staying Harry still didn't know) it seemed far more bitter. Harry couldn't quite figure this out, while the ice mutant was optimistic he was hardly the life of party. Maybe it had something to do with the way Pyro continued to glare at Bobby's empty bed, his jaw clenched tight. Harry thought that if Pyro didn't lite Bobby's bed on fire before breakfast it would be a good example of restraint.

"Sorry," Pyro suddenly said.

Harry turned to look over at him. "Huh?" he wondered aloud.

"About the other day . . . burning you." He didn't meet Harry's eyes and ran a hand through his brown hair.

It took Harry a moment to recall what he'd been referring to, he hadn't been alone much with Pyro since before the fight he'd broken up. "Oh, no problem," He waved the concern away, "I can heal just fine."

Pyro's expression looked a little less fierce as he nodded.

"So, what are you going to do today?" Harry asked, he'd been getting dressed but Pyro seemed to be showing no signs of preparing for the day.

The fire mutant leaned back on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. "I think I'll just stay here and hide out like all the other strange-siders."

Harry nodded. He'd been introduced to the phrase strange-sider the night before, it was intended as an endearment of sorts. Harry wasn't aware of the story but apparently the term had emerged several years ago and stuck.

While many mutants that resided in mutant high appeared perfectly human on the outside, there were a few that 'walked on the strange side'. Mutants with odd colored skin, tails, Harry had even seen one mutant that had ears that stood out like a cat's. These mutants had a little harder time blending in, and while the professor had some holographic devices to help them in public no one bothered with it here at Mutant High. It was perhaps one of the few places in the world where a strange-sider could feel free and welcome.

Except on the second Parents' Day.

It was then that everyone was encouraged to 'blend' in and try their best to keep mutations out of sight. The professor sold it as 'good practice' for the real world. And while no mutant had ever purposefully broken this rule it still chaffed at the more militant among the young people.

As Pyro reached over to the side of his bed and switched on a CD player, Harry figured that Pyro would join the others who were boycotting this day. He didn't ask what the fire mutant planned to do if Bobby wanted to show his parents his room.

"Well good luck with it, Fight the power," Harry encouraged lamely.

Pyro seemed to like the comment however and raised his flaming fist in the air in a gesture of strength.

Harry wasn't sure if he was teasing or not.

"Want me to bring you some food?" he offered.

Pyro raised an eyebrow, "Sure," he quickly agreed. "Anything but oatmeal."

Harry nodded before closing the door.

The cafeteria was noticeably more empty today. Quite a few of their fellow students seemed to have joined in the silent protest, or maybe they simply didn't want to deal with those mutants who still hadn't told their parents the truth. Of those students who were present most seemed somewhat tense and the usual friendly banter and casual display of mutation had been quashed making the morning lackluster. The few parents Harry spotted seemed oblivious to the tumult that their arrival had wrought.

Even the teacher's table looked a little bland. Scott wasn't around, Harry wondered if he'd left in protest of if his sunglasses may raise a little too much speculation. Storm looked more than a little subdued, her white hair was tucked back and she seemed to be wearing the most dowdy outfit her closet contained. (It was becoming increasingly difficult to picture her as anything other than a teacher. Which was very depressing.)

"Harry," a voice intruded.

Looking up Harry spotted a nervous looking Bobby being shadowed by a somewhat chubby couple who were smiling at him in a warm way.

"Morning Bobby," Harry greeted, throwing in more enthusiasm than he felt, if only to help the ice mutant out.

Bobby seemed to relax some at Harry's welcoming manner, noticeably becoming less tense.

"Oh you must be one of our Bobby's friends," Mrs. Drake said. She was carrying her own tray of breakfast foods and set it down across from him. Mr. Drake followed his wife's lead and waved a small greeting before yawning.

"Little early for a Saturday," the man said by way of a cheerful explanation.

"We live a few hours away," Mrs. Drake explained, "Bob isn't used to getting up this early."

"Just not on a Saturday," the man corrected amicably.

"We could have stayed in a motel," Mrs. Drake pestered.

"It's only a few hours dive, And I had to help Terry with his driveway," Mr. Drake replied.

"You didn't have to," his wife argued, "You wanted to play with that cement mixer her rented." Mrs. Drake took a bite of her breakfast giving her husband a knowing glance.

"Harry's one of my room mates," Bobby explained for his parents while Harry continued to stare at them slightly amused. They weren't nearly the monsters that Bobby seemed to think they were.

"Is he now," Mrs. Drake said excitedly, "We didn't get to meet your room mate last year," she said. "They really should have more times for parents to visit," she claimed, patting Bobby's hand from across the table.

"If only," Harry said, trying to fill the phrase with agreement rather than sarcasm.

"Now that's an interesting accent, are you from England Harry," Mrs. Drake asked.

"Yes," Harry nodded, feeling a little like an animal in a zoo as Mrs. Drake continued to stare at him curiously.

"Must be a good school if kids cross an ocean to come here," Mr. Drake said, looking at his plate rather than Harry, taking a big bite of the sausage.

"Bob, your cholesterol," Mrs. Drake reminded her husband, shooting angry glances at his food choices.

"First rate breakfast, son," Mr. Drake said ignoring his wife. "So Harry do you play football with my son?" he asked, leaning in.

Harry blinked, when did Bobby play football? "Er, yes," he lied, "I'm a midfielder," he offered trying to remember a football position from back in his muggle days.

"Midfielder?" Mr. Drake puzzled.

"Uh, what Harry means is that he plays on the soccer team," Bobby inserted.

"Ah, American football," Harry realized. "Oh yes, sorry about that. Yes I play _soccer_." He scratched his head.

"It's a shame that there aren't many games. We missed them again this year, I feel like I'm spoiling Ronnie Didn't miss his, what do you call that dear? Oh yes, all that paint ball tomfoolery." He shook his head, ignoring the way his wife tutted, he looked at Bobby, "But then that's what you get for wanting to go away to school," Mr. Drake accused.

"And forgetting to send us the schedule," His mother offered with a slight frown.

"Parents don't usually go anyway," Bobby excused, "We play against other boarding schools, right Harry."

Harry wished Bobby would stop trying to get him involved in this, "Er, yeah. No parents to speak of really."

"Well that is too bad, you kids grow up so fast here, it's almost like you're at college." Mrs. Drake looked a bit emotional. "Bob don't eat that," she corrected, dropping some of the concern. "Honestly, you remember what Dr. Bradforse said," she pulled her husband's tray away and took it up to the buffet breakfast that was still being served.

"She wants me to survive on oatmeal," Mr. Drake complained, following his wife.

It seemed an argument that the two were used to having and Harry watched them squabble amicably. They had obviously been together for a very long time, and if Mrs. Drake's actions were any indication, the woman was hoping to keep Mr. Drake alive and well for years longer. It seemed such a _normal_ relationship and Harry thought he could see why Bobby was so terrified of losing that.

"Bobby," Harry inquired quietly. "Do they know anything real about you?"

"Uh," Bobby looked uncomfortable. "Look Harry, I really do appreciate– "

"Do they know how you want to be an X-man, do they know about Rogue, I mean, if they don't know anything real about you, then you don't really have them now, do you? Maybe it would be better to give them the benefit of the doubt."

Bobby looked thoughtful, nodding his head a little weakly. "Sure," he allowed, although Harry wondered if he had heard him.

Harry shrugged, it wasn't his life. Maybe Bobby would figure it out, maybe he'd spend his whole life having a relationship of lies. Either way, Harry had no say in the matter.

"Now isn't this much better," Mrs. Drake encouraged, sitting back down with her husband who was grumpily eating some fruit salad.

"Well I told Pyro I'd take him some breakfast," Harry said rising to his feet.

"Pyro, what a funny name." Mrs. Drake looked thoughtful.

Bobby looked like he was walking to his death.

"Just a nickname, he wasn't careful with a burner in chemistry class once," Harry covered. "He's sick today though, something seems to be going around."

Mr. Drake nodded, "The school did look a little empty, must be some terrible bug."

"You can say that again," Harry agreed. "Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Drake." He nodded at the two parents and left, snagging some more breakfast food for his other dorm mate on the way out. He spotted Rogue descending on Bobby and his parents as he was leaving. That would be an interesting visit. He wasn't terribly disappointed to miss it.

-

The second Parents Day finally passed and the entire school seemed to release a sigh of relief. To celebrate the parents' exit, and to help nourish those few students who had been enduring a hunger strike for the day, the evening meal was extended quite late. The atmosphere seemed to have mysteriously lightened and even friends who had been in sour moods all week seemed more than content to let bygones be bygones. Bobby and Pyro were making an extra effort to be polite to each other and generally try and pretend that the last few days hadn't happened.

Kitty who had been annoyed at them seemed to want to let the matter drop as well, merely muttering something like "_boys_" under her breath before joining Rogue in demolishing a piece of devil's food chocolate cake.

The teachers also looked a little relieved. Harry thought it must be difficult, considering that some parents did pay tuition and it was up to the few X-men to insure that the teenagers were given a good education. Harry noticed that Wolverine was back as well, the truculent mutant seemed to be having some sort of argument with the headmaster and Jean was intervening much to Scott's obvious annoyance. Wolverine said something to the pretty redhead and Scott's frown became more defined.

"So Harry, when we going on another, uh, _trip_," Pyro asked.

Harry grew thoughtful, "Where did you have in mind," he asked, keeping his tone equally quiet. Although it might have been a little wasted considering that Professor Xavier was still in the room. And Harry's wasn't entirely certain he could portkey people to a place he had never been.

Pyro gave Kitty and Rogue a cautious glance, "Let's make this a guys night, you can teleport us to Tijuana, tequila, college girls out to make some bad decisions," he raised his eyebrows and smirked. "That my friend is every teenage mutant's dream."

Harry avoided a smile, "Maybe sometime, I need to figure out how to _teleport_ to places I haven't been."

"Oh," Pyro said with some thought, "Well change of plans, how about London, bars or what do you call them, pubs? English girls out to make some bad decisions."

"Let me guess, every teenage mutant's dream?" Harry asked.

"In the flesh," Pyro agreed seriously.

"Just don't forget the police squad that is out in force trying to hunt us down," Harry mentioned.

Pyro waved the comment away, "Every dream has it's little issues."

Harry didn't need to remind his room mate that this dream's little issue could leave you imprisoned and doing a fair imitation of a science experiment. Such a thought, and knowing that some unsuspecting wizard was facing a similar experience left Harry in a sour mood and he fell into silence, not listening to what the others were talking about. Xavier was taking too long. As he bit into his dinner he tried to think of another way to find the Northern Facility short of being arrested again.

That was a thought, Harry supposed. He could get the government themselves to deliver him to the Northern facility. He'd have to look different and have a different 'mutation' but it wasn't entirely without merit. Suicidal of course, but plausible.

It was then that Harry noticed a subtle change occur at the teacher's table. Whatever petty argument Wolverine had been having with the Professor seemed to fade away. Scott took on a more controlling role and the man spoke to Storm seriously, both of them looking equally focused.

In only a moment the adults had risen to their feet, well except for the Professor who was rolling, and exited out a door that would lead to the elevators.

The young people erupted into much speculation and those who, for whatever reason, had some knowledge of what the X-men did quickly shared their thoughts with their classmates. Rogue seemed to be distinctly uncomfortable as her story was repeated with much interest. The Liberty Island Incident as it was called by the media was a well known story at Mutant High, likely exaggerated in some respects but very popular.

"Well, now what do you suppose that is about?" Kitty asked, watching the door.

"Maybe something about what is going on overseas?" Bobby offered. They all knew that the issues occurring in England were of great importance at the moment.

"Or something to do with the people that attacked," Pyro offered. "Sorry," he quickly offered noting that Syren's complexion seemed to pale at the idea.

"What do you think Harry?" Rogue asked, negligently. He'd been rather quiet she thought and he had some inside knowledge about the situation in England, even though they hadn't pried. Much.

"Harry?"

Pyro looked at the suddenly empty seat beside him."Where did he go?"

-

-

A/N: Special Halloween Edition.

I rushed this a bit to get it out for the holiday. Been looking forward for the next chapter anyway, things are gonna kick it up a notch.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Along For the Ride

-

-

The underground portion of Mutant High was not something that many would see, even though the lower levels were actually more extensive than the floors above. Those few students who had ventured into the underground world of the X-men would likely not associate the place with the warmest memories. While the Professor tried to approach prospective students well before they were placed in any dangerous situation, sometimes it was unavoidable. Those young people had, like Harry, been flown to Xavier's School and perhaps spent a little time in the medical wing before emerging aboveground to join their peers.

Still, those little glimpses never quite allowed the students to get the full measure of _what_ exactly lay beneath their school. And, while it was a topic of much speculation, no one had gotten it all right yet.

Some had seen the extensive medical unit and genetic's lab, as well as the state-of-the-art jet and holding pad. A few of Cyclop's more promising engineering students may even have been given a glimpse of the other transport devices not considered safe enough to be above ground.

But none of the current students had seen the deeper underground levels that held Xavier's Cerebro and a few other devices that the X-men had been fiddling with. There were also several chambers that, while not currently in use, could house the entire Mutant High population if need be.

While Xavier had a love of mankind he wasn't blind to the possibilities, the living quarters had been built to withstand any bombing from above, including the nuclear, and had been stocked with food to feed the school for over eight weeks. It was the Doomsday plan that they all hoped never to have to use.

But, there were other areas more often in use. Areas for the X-men: space for training (including the impressive Danger Room that allowed holographic simulations), a room for mission planning, holding cells for the temporary imprisonment of dangerous mutants, storage space for uniforms and other tools, as well as a place that allowed for some relaxation away from the teenagers above.

The few X-men were in the planing room now, and they were a small few. Charles Xavier was their leader, Scott his second in command, Storm was their most likely agent in the field, and Jean was, strictly speaking, only a doctor. More often than not, she stayed at the school only leaving if the mission needed her additional help. But they all tried to fill whatever roles were required, everyone had some basic knowledge of how to do most things. They all just excelled at different key skills.

They had to, when working with so small a group. Only three adult mutants, moved about by one very intelligent older man, it was a relatively small number considering their aim.

They had all been students of the Professor, some of the first and brightest, and more importantly, all had returned seeking a way to help their fellow mutants. Over the years a few students, past and present, had lent a hand in an operation or two but this was the core of the unit. A small strike force that seemed to be the only thing keeping the war between humanity and mutants from spilling over and blistering the world in its wake, constantly trying to stop a war which seemed determined to come.

Wolverine was a new and uncertain addition. Unlike the others he had no real stake in the fight to keep peace. His own philosophy seeming to teeter between Xavier's altruism and Magneto's offensive philosophy. He'd been an asset at Liberty Island, but if Magneto's plan hadn't involved Rogue, one of the few people that Wolverine had allowed into his life, then it was anyone's guess if he would have even bothered.

And Wolverine had returned again, but was it to help or was he merely trying to assure the Professor's assistance in locating the past he couldn't remember? His allegiance was anyone's guess and that made some members (Scott) a little hesitant to include him in the current mission.

"Not to mention he still hasn't trained with us, I doubt he's even capable of working with a team," Cyclops stated. He spoke to the Professor ignoring the topic of his diatribe who was growling in a manner that did his namesake proud.

"Say that to my face, bub," Wolverine said, rising to his feet and lifting his fists as if he'd like nothing better than to strike out at the man before him.

"We'll need all the help we can get," Jean reminded Scott softly, tugging on her boyfriend's arm and getting him to sit down quietly. Wolverine took a breath and decided to stifle his own anger, for now.

Xavier nodded his thanks to the calming redhead. They did indeed need Wolverine's help if the coming mission was to be successful.

And it had to be.

"As I was saying," Xavier continued, now that Scott's protests had been silenced. "I recently received an message from an English telepath I've been in contact with. She was able to discover the location of a covert military facility, perhaps the northern one young Harry had mentioned to us. And I'm afraid that this can't wait."

Charles paused, rubbing absently at his knees. He couldn't actually feel the touch but the gesture seemed to ease the phantom pain that cropped up when he was under stress.

"The information isn't as detailed as I'd like," the professor allowed, "But I was able to get positive proof that Thomas Winter is being held there, along with a few others vital to the Haven's internal structure."

Some mutters passed around the room. Wolverine however looked unimpressed.

For his benefit, Xavier reminded him, "Thomas Winter has a powerful gift, he is able to control people's actions by his voice. Even recordings seem to have the same effect. But perhaps his greater gift is the generous and unobtrusive way in which he uses his ability.

"Going by the name Telltale, he was able to unite many of the British and Western European Mutants together. The community he developed over the last thirty years, the Haven, has given a home to many mutants who might not otherwise have one. He was in the process of planning for a school when the Mutant Acts were passed." Xavier looked a little defeated as he considered all the years of work those pieces of legislation had destroyed.

"He also has formed connections with more mutants throughout Europe and England than any other individual in the world— "

"Excluding you, right," Wolverine interrupted.

Xavier sighed, "No, he was able to reach and work with people whom I only have the barest knowledge of. If there is going to be any hope of saving the UK we will need Thomas Winter's support. Also...if something were to happen to him." Xavier stilled, his face having the barest hint of a frown. He seemed to allow the possibilities to flash before his eyes, which deepened the frown, before he spoke.

"There are no real words to explain it, the tumult after his loss would be catastrophic. There are some very powerful mutants who have remained in check only because of him. He is also well admired in that community, if he were to be seen as a martyr. . . perhaps hundreds of mutants would try and strike back at the current government."

Wolverine spared a glance for Storm, from what they had seen during their few misadventures in Britain, maybe a war was exactly what that country needed.

Storm ignored his glance.

"This mutant, the telepath, is she trustworthy?" Scott asked, ignoring the interplay between Storm and Wolverine.

Xavier nodded. "She was one of Winter's contacts, I met her several years ago in fact, although she is not a part of the Haven. I leaned that she managed to avoid being discovered during the Mutant Act's passing. However I think it best if we leave her out of any plans. Her role..." Xavier looked thoughtful, "I think her aide in garnering information may be the best use for her at the moment. Any more might shine an unhealthy light on her current position."

Scott nodded.

"So, we storm in, knock out the guards, circumvent the electrical gadgets in place and free the mutants before bringing them here for safe keeping. Sounds like my kind of mission," Wolverine surmised.

"You mean reckless," Scott muttered under his breath, although he was at a loss for what more they could do given their short timetable.

The Professor ignored the interplay, answering Wolverine's plan with a wry smile. "Something like that. Although," he lit up a screen that showed several lists "I think it may be a little more tricky than it seems."

The few scraps of paper looked to be from a building's planning phase. It listed guard numbers, specific types of locking devices being implemented and some decidedly dangerous countermeasures. As they skimmed through these pieces of information the group grew more solemn. The number of guards were far greater than those that had been at the smaller facility containing Harry. And, if those soldiers had been any representation, it would be wise to assume that all would be well armed.

"We don't have any more time?" Scott asked, his eyes were focused on the screen. "What about actual building plans?" he inquired.

"I'm afraid this is all that was available, and even this was locked down in such a way that if it hadn't been for our contact's skill we might never have had this. We do however have a general area for searching."

"You don't know where it is?" Storm asked hesitantly, sharing a glance with her teammates. They seemed as hesitant as she did, Scott particularly, but his emotions were always a little difficult to guess from behind the opaque glasses.

"We have a localized area, and it's probably an underground structure. I'm afraid that is all we have," Xavier looked a little tired as he gazed up at the picked over information.

"It can't wait? Get some more information? How many mutants are being held there?" Scott asked again, his practical side made him feel a little daunted but he was trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

Failing if the challenging look on Wolverine's face was any indication.

"Based on the most recent information, no. It can't wait," Xavier rubbed his knee again. "There is more than enough evidence to assume that some very disturbing experimentation is occurring. We must do all we can to free these mutants before things go any further. As for the current numbers. That is very unclear. Our contact was able to reach some former Haven members, about 25% escaped the initial attack and have been accounted for. Of the 75%, it is not known how many are still alive, imprisoned, or have been killed. Some of the people unaccounted for are— fairly young. Some not even entirely developing their mutations."

The group nodded, there was no hesitation now.

"Lets go over it again," Wolverine repeated. There was a certain lack of humor in his voice and his face seemed emotionless almost mask-like. The idea of experimentation on mutants had gone a long way in steeling his resolve.

As for the others, protecting young mutants was a duty they took very seriously.

Scott nodded, "Alright, first—

-

The X-men climbed upward, moving towards the west end of complex where the X-Jet was stored, they were as prepared as they could be. And they looked it, their differences growing less apparent as their uniforms gave them a look of purpose and team unity. Despite Harry's belief that the gang roamed around in leather body suits, the X-men's gear was actually made of a micro fibre that wove kevlar and smooth grain Vegatan, with the addition of some strategically placed plates it greatly reduced the damage caused by gunfire. It would be inaccurate to call them bulletproof, but they were significantly safer than mere leather and still allowed free range of movement. The material was also a breathable fibre, something that was essential during combat. (Ironically enough it was also animal friendly, although that was more a coincidence and not a goal of the construction.)

Still, as Wolverine had pointed out, their previous experience with the British military lead him to believe that they were using armor piercing bullets. If he wasn't so good at healing, he'd have the scars to prove it. Scott was still rather put out that yet another of his uniforms had been destroyed by Wolverine's less than careful treatment. Sure he could heal, but what about the suit?

"It's tight," Wolverine complained as he settled into the Jet. He twisted around trying to feel comfortable in the binding fabric.

"Then have one of your own made," Scott suggested, his tone trying to hide his animosity as Wolverine stretched, letting his claws slice through the material easily.

"Yeah, right," the surly man said with some slight mocking. "Like I'd actually want to admit to owning something like this."

Scott seemed content to keep his mouth shut for the moment. If Jean could guess she'd say he was likely chanting a mantra about how Wolverine was needed for this mission.

"Storm, get us in the air," Scott said comfortably.

The white haired mutant nodded, taking a seat at the controls. Despite her original dislike of flying, she was now the most capable pilot. Her mutations came in handy, not only for creating conditions to hide their landings but she was able to manipulate the air conditions as they flew helping them avoid difficult weather and most turbulence.

"Wait," Wolverine suddenly said, his head jerking up, he looked around his posture instantly alert.

"What?" Scott asked seriously. Wolverine's healing ability wasn't his only gift, increased senses had been useful in the past.

Wolverine sniffed the air again, slowly settling down with a small smirk. "Nothing, thought I smelled something foul. But it's just the suit, what were you doing when you wore this last?"

Scott rolled his eyes, "Let's get moving," he directed. He expressed his annoyance in a glance at Jean and she smiled and shrugged. It wasn't exactly comforting.

Jean tried to convey her boyfriend's emotion by sending Wolverine an annoyed looked, which prompted a leering wink in her direction. She turned away from him and faced forwards, watching as the hatch opened and the jet rose above the basketball court and into the sky. It was already dark out and to the people inside the jet it looked as if they were cutting through grey clouds and up toward the stars.

As they climbed higher into the air, Wolverine leaned over to glance behind at a seemingly empty chair to the left of his own.

"Hope you're ready for a ride," he whispered into the empty air.

-

Northumberland was a county in the north-east of England. Prior to the expedition none of the X-men had heard of it, and they had even less knowledge of the small district known as Berwick-upon-Tweed which was their final destination. Berwick-upon-Tweed was the northernmost district in Northumberland and rested right on the border between England and Scotland. In ancient years long passed, which the X-men had no knowledge of, the land they were flying over had been home to many wars between England and Scotland. The tired castles that were scattered across Northumberland were the only signs of that past now, and its empty land was more likely to see sheep instead of battle.

The X-jet flew west of the town, moving toward the more isolated area that skirted the Cheviot Hills and edged the Northumberland National Park. It was night below and the comfortable evening's weather had been radically changed, a freak storm forcing most of the inhabitants inside.

They were flying much lower than was normal, and Storm's cloud cover was essential. The reason for this low flying had a great deal to do with the fact that while they were in the immediate vicinity of the 'Northern Facility', as they had come to think of it, they did not have an exact fix on the location.

Scott was using a device that acted like a sort of sonar to try and locate what must be a vast structure that was underground. Jean seemed similarly absorbed concentrating on locating mental signals. The general area was sparsely populated and a high concentration of minds would likely point them in the right direction. Wolverine was trying to be helpful by looking for lights shining below, Scott seemed to get a great deal of laughs out of this.

"There," both Jean and Scott said at the same time, their eyes meeting and sharing a smile.

"Take us down, Storm," Scott directed. He was looking at the small device that was showing a great deal of metal, all of it under the seemingly empty moorland beneath them.

"There's a light," Wolverine pointed out, a little late but the information was still helpful as Storm used the little pinprick in the darkness to land the jet behind an outcropping of rock, essentially blocking them from sight.

"Where is this?" Jean inquired.

Storm had more accurate mapping on her console."We're just inside the boundary line of the Northumberland National Park," she answered. "I suppose it would be a good place for the government to hide a massive facility."

"Perhaps better to ask when is this?" Scott asked. Looking outside they could tell that it was still dark but by flying East, time might not be on their side.

"A little after three in the morning, sunrise is in approximately four hours."

"Here's to hoping we'll be off this island by then," Wolverine said, lifting his hand as if making a toast.

A hatch on the side of the plane dropped open, quietly allowing them to exit the plane. Three quickly climbed down, and then waited anxiously on the ground looking up at the empty ladder.

"What's keeping you?" Scott hissed after everyone except Wolverine had exited.

The Canadian mutant gave their leader a patronizing glance, looking out at the land for a moment and taking a few sniffs of the clean air. After a moment he seemed to have discovered all he needed and joined the others on the ground, leaping the last four feet and landing with his knees bent.

Scott shut the door with a snap and the four mutants crossed the wild grass feeling very paranoid. But seeing as paranoia was a healthy response given the situation, it was perhaps the best course of action.

"That's the light I saw," Wolverine said, indicating a small floodlight that let out a toxic looking florescent glow and sent long arching shadows that faded into darkness. The light was affixed to a small building that read _Northumberland Park Authority _and looked to be the sort that might contain equipment used by rangers in managing the surrounding area. It was small and not very interesting looking, a boring government outpost that probably looked identical to the dozens of others that were scattered around the park.

Except perhaps for one defining factor.

"Hell of a fence," Wolverine commented looking up.

A hundred meters out from the small building ran a fence that was at least 3 meters high. Still, other than its height the fence didn't look terribly imposing . It was a simple chain link, without the usual ring of barbed wire that could make such divides seem impenetrable.

"Sure we have the right place?" Storm asked quietly.

The lack of force thus far was putting them all on edge. Somehow they had expected armed guards patrolling the perimeter, watch towers and even spot lights sweeping the surrounding area like something out of World War II POW camps.

"It has to be," Scott said. He looked around carefully.

"Well, up we go," Wolverine said with a shrug, examining the fence.

Scott paused, opening his mouth before shutting it again. He seemed to be seriously considering something before grabbing Wolverine's outstretched hand.

"Wait," he whispered a little hesitantly. "I think it's electrified." He pointed to a copper wire that seemed to be running along the base of the fence.

Wolverine looked a surprised, pausing to lean in and nod, "It's humming," he said, his voice a little muffled.

Scott smiled smugly, "Admitting you were wrong is almost as good as seeing you get fried," he muttered with a sigh.

Wolverine seemed ready to ignore that remark. Jean and Storm shared a significant gesture, wondering if the two would ever be able to work together without the little jabs and insults.

The four silently skirted the outside of the fence, Storm drew on the low land level to bring in a mist that helped to keep them more hidden. They had been walking for only a few moments when Wolverine stopped. He'd been silently chosen to lead their little group through the darkness that was at times overpowering. It seemed the only light for miles was affixed to the small shed. Storm's mist was also obscuring more than the guards who might be watching.

Wolverine's solid back hunched for a moment and his ears strained in the night to try and figure out what he was hearing. He'd been following the slight hum of the electric fence hoping to come upon a gate. But on the other side of the fence something was moving. He shrugged and decided to continue his pace, not answering the questioning gazes that the other mutants were throwing his way.

He hoped he was right in his guess. The noise was so soft that the others couldn't seem to hear it. But Wolverine knew that somewhere in the darkness a body had dropped to the ground and hadn't gotten back up. Living or dead? He didn't know.

He counted in his head, two, three, four, five. Each silent plop was probably good news but he felt tense not knowing and was relieved when he stopped before a gate that was wide enough to allow a military vehicle to pass through.

Scott took the lead now, a small black box of mysterious origin had been latched onto his forearm and he now removed it, pulling two different colored wires from the device and clapping them underneath the impressive electronic lock.

Scott fiddled with a few buttons on the device and a small screen lit up with a wash of numbers sliding past at an impressive speed. The soft blue light of the screen lit their faces for a moment. Jean and Storm weren't surprised at the tool that Cyclops was using. Wolverine gathered that the black box had been used on other missions, and he wasn't about to look impressed. Scott was focused on the device and when the numbers stopped whirling by and remained stationary on a 12 digit code he smiled appreciatively.

The suits they wore made it difficult to key in the closely spaced numbers but with a little patience Cyclops managed it and was satisfied with the smooth sound of the door sliding open.

"Someone will have heard that," Wolverine pointed out.

Scott's face seemed expressionless, but Jean thought that he might have rolled his eyes had they been able to see them.

The land was still dark as they crossed through the gate, but the taller grass surrounding it had been clipped to a neatness that seemed strange after the wild grass they had been tramping through. The small parks building looked rather desolate standing on a small rise in the middle of the fenced in area.

The X-men moved softly, forming a sort of circle, their backs facing inward, allowing them to see the angles around them. It was tense walking and all felt that at a moments notice a guard might emerge from behind the building or, for all they knew, pop out of the ground and begin firing. But, their footsteps were the only noise approaching and they reached the door of the building feeling even more nervous at the lack of attack.

Cyclops eyed the even more complex lock that secured what looked to be a tool shed. It would require another twelve digit code _and _a transmitted code, not unlike that of a car's keyless entry. Cracking a 40 bit code was something that wasn't going to be easy on the fly.

The first number was easy, it was the same as the gate. Cyclops eyed the small receiver closely. The standard method of breaking this type of locking mechanism required the use of a radio scanner to essentially 'capture' the code. But even if he had that device handy (which actually he did, it was on the plane) it required that the device be close to the transmitter, while in use, to read and copy the code.

Which meant they were good and properly screwed unless some curious general decided to pop in for tea and crumpets. At three a.m.

The night was sadly without such an individual and Scott continued to stare at the lock trying to get another way around it short of utilizing his mutation and blowing a hole through it, which was looking the most promising at the moment.

"What's taking so long," Wolverine asked looking over Scotts shoulder.

"A little more high tech than I'm capable of dealing with at the moment," he answered.

"Then we'll try a low tech solution," Wolverine offered, his hand clenched as he released one adamantium claw and sliced through the metal door as if it were butter. When he neared the lock's bolt Cyclops couldn't help but cringe. While Wolverine's solution was no less valid than his own, he couldn't help but fear what sort of alarms tampering with the complex lock might cause.

He glanced at Storm and Jean, silently telling them to be ready to make a dash depending on whatever happened.

Wolverine's claw reached the lock and he seemed to struggle for a moment before the small red light on keypad blinked to green and door seemed to be kicked open a inch or so.

Wolverine grinned, "Here is to breaking and entering," he cheered softly.

"That shouldn't have worked," Cyclops couldn't help but say. He shrugged the anxiety away, although he couldn't entirely loose it. This was beginning to seem almost too easy.

"Jean, keep an eye out," he encouraged.

Jean titled her head to look at him curiously, she didn't need to speak for him to know what she was thinking. Telepathy wasn't nearly as much her skill as telekinesis. Still, she closed her eyes, relying on her hand against his shoulder to guide her forward into the dark space that awaited them.

Storm looked at Scott closely before following.

"That shouldn't have worked," Scott repeated, he stepped into the darkness.

"Anyone spot at light switch?" Wolverine asked from ahead of them.

Scott reached into a side pouch and pulled out a dim tube that he cracked inciting a chemical reaction that allowed a low blue light to give them some idea of their location, "We don't want to walk into a trap," Scott advised, holding the light out carefully to gaze at the seemingly empty hall that stretched on and slopped downward without a single door or junction.

Whizz.

Wolverine dived backwards as a small silver dart shot in his direction, missing him by centimeters. Another dart followed the first, striking him in the shoulder. Wolverine wrenched it out with a growl.

"Little late for that," Wolverine shouted to Cyclops, noticing as five more darts seemed to shoot from somewhere overheard.

Cyclops seemed to notice the direction as well and fired a well controlled blast in the general area. He raised his hand to allow the light to drift upward. There were no people, rather a thick strip of metal with holes that shot the darts at them. Jean was doing her best to capture the metal darts before they hit herself, Storm or Scott but she was slightly overwhelmed when Cyclop's attack resulted in a wave of sliver streaking towards them. Storm flinched back knowing that one would eventually hit, and she couldn't let loose any lightning in here as the building, she had noted in the dim light, was a massive block of metal, she'd run the risk of frying her teammates as well at their attackers. And wind was so difficult to control in this small space.

She tried to move back unsuccessfully when one of the darts seemed to escape Jean's eye and flew menacingly close to her head. It was going to be over and she'd become a liability.

But the dart stopped hovering a foot from her face before flying back the way it had came. She stood dazed before mentally thanking Jean's quick reflexes.

"We have to get out of here," she shouted.

Scott seemed to agree, he took a close look at the wall across from them before raising a hand to his ruby quartz visor and adjusting the power level. Turning his head, a massive optic blast, the red light blindingly bright after the dim, crashed into a wall and left the air thick with plaster dust, a few shards of metal flung like shrapnel around the room. Jean just barely managed to stop some it that almost pelted their group, cutting them to ribbons.

Jean, Storm and Scott barreled through the opening, another flash of bright red light and a loud crash left little doubt that they had worked their way even deeper into the facility.

But Wolverine, less worried about the darts than his fellow mutants had managed to move further forward than the others. He took one glance at the opening a few meters back, shook his head wearily as he pulled out another dart before charging ahead instead, clearing a doorway and running down the shallow slope and deeper into the underground facility.

He had cleared whatever had been shooting the tranquilizer, and he was none to pleased about that. The nasty things weren't enough to knock him out, very few things in this world were, but they were already giving him a headache and the few shattered explosions from Cyclop's blasts weren't helping matters.

There was also someone following him.

Wolverine's hand snaked out suddenly, reaching behind him and grasping something firmly, but not cruelly. He gave the empty air a shake, raising an eyebrow as his companion emerged from nothing.

"Ouch, was that necessary," Harry grouched as he shrugged out of Wolverine's grasp.

"Was getting tired of the invisible man routine," He said before turning and continuing his steady loping pace downward.

"I don't know I hoping the others would start thinking you were talking to yourself," Harry offered friendly.

Wolverine ignored that comment.

"Well this is different," Harry said, looking around. He'd expected for the Northern Facility to look identical to the government building that had housed him. It was in some regards, they had used the same decorator, but it seemed as if they had been running down a small hill for sometime now, the wide hallway allowing them to jog side by side quite comfortably.

"Little more complicated," Wolverine admitted. "But I'm guessing we want to go down anyway."

The building must be on full alert because the only light in the hallway were the same red twirling lights that Harry remembered from when he had escaped. They cast the hallway into a creepy gloom as Harry kept running, trying to keep up as best he could.

"Any idea where we're going?" Harry asked between breaths. He found himself pleasantly surprised that Jean's nagging actually had managed to help in rebuilding his physical strength, he wasn't feeling nearly as likely to collapse as he had the last time he and Wolverine had been running from the British military.

Wolverine shook his head, "Hope we find something promising soon, there are some people that are following us."

Harry tried to look behind himself while still running. The incline of their current path made it difficult to see further than ten feet and he couldn't see anyone yet.

Suddenly the empty hall was crossed by another hall, one without their incline, running straight across. There were doors here. Including one door that was made of metal and had the same daunting keypad that had slowed Cyclops down earlier.

"Let's try this way," Wolverine offered, "If they're trying to keep people out, well I'm betting that is where we want to go."

Harry shrugged, he didn't have any better ideas.

Wolverine once again extended one claw and moved toward the lock.

Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm, "You don't really think you opened that last one by trying to slice it open?"

Wolverine paused giving Harry a considering glance, he moved out of the way while Harry waved his palm and mentally said the same unlocking charm he had learned his first year. It seemed that no matter how complicated the muggle lock, the spell still worked so long as their wasn't a locking charm involved. Harry would have to remember this if ever decided to take up a career in bank robbery.

Wolverine watched as the lock's small light changed green and the door opened a small degree. "We could not mention this to Scotty-boy, right?" he asked hopefully. "You know, leave him stewing for a bit about how I opened a door he couldn't."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies," Harry chanted, holding the door open for the mutant who followed him inside and allowed the door to shut with a snap. It cut off any sound from outside and Harry hoped that whomever was following might not notice their current hiding place. Away from the flashing red lights it seemed almost peaceful and the two sat in the darkness for a moment.

"It smells bad in here," Wolverine said, he breathed out heavily though his nose and began breathing through his mouth.

Harry could only smell a trace of antiseptic, reminding him vaguely of a muggle doctor's office. He fiddled with the wall for a moment before his hand brushed against the light switch, illuminating the room with a harsh florescent light that left them blinking and squinting. As the visual haze began to clear Harry began to have a bad feeling about why it might smell bad in here.

At first glance the room didn't seem much different than the medical room that Jean commanded. A stainless steel table, sized to accommodate even a fairly large man, was in the center of the room, a few large lights (currently off) hung above it. There were some of the same muggle medical devices that Harry had puzzled over earlier, seeming just as curious and unexplainable now. It was a perfectly ordinary room except for a few features. One might be the thick arm and foot restraints on the metal table and the other would be the large metal drawers that occupied an entire wall. Not filing cabinets, they were storing something bigger in there. Harry tried not to think about what that bigger thing might be.

It was cold too, and Harry felt himself shiver, rubbing at his arms to try and erase the chill that seemed to come over him.

Beside him Wolverine's teeth were on edge, his lips pulled back in the slightest hint of a snarl. He smelled the air with darkening expression and Harry wondered what the mutant could sense that he couldn't. Oddly enough he was glad not knowing.

"Why didn't you rat me out," Harry asked, breaking the silence with a an echoing voice that sounded a little strange to Harry's ear.

Wolverine glanced in Harry's direction, "You have more right to be here than we do," he answered.

Harry knew that Wolverine meant that Harry was British, and so this was his home. There wasn't much point in arguing the validity of that remark.

Harry was starting to find other traces, a massive drill, a drawer marked scalpels, a trash bin whose yellow bags read 'medical waste' and maybe it was all because of Wolverine but Harry was starting to feel like he smelled something foul as well.

"You think the others will be alright?"

Wolverine shrugged, "Guess so, they've done this sort of thing before. Best to let them work together," the statement seemed to end with the silent implication that Wolverine and Harry, the two outsiders, would only get in the way.

Harry couldn't help but agree.

Wolverine crossed toward the wall of cold steel drawers, his steps echoing in the empty medical room. Harry knew he should be chasing after him. He should be trying to stop him from opening those drawers and reveling what Harry knew to be hidden within. But his sturdy hand latched onto one drawer and pulled, Harry felt an odd sort of relief. As if this had been inevitable and his chattering had only been a distraction from what was coming and it was good to be rid of the delusion..

It was woman.

Or rather had been a woman. Only her face was visible, the rest of her form was covered by a white sheet. Her dark hair pooled around her face, it was thick and long. She was. . . ugly.

Really, she was. It had nothing to do with the whole dead thing. Harry was pretty sure she'd been just as ugly before she died. He stared at her horrible face and found himself wondering when dead bodies had stopped unnerving him. Her being dead had not even phased him.

Really though, she was hideous. Why was he so focused on this? He'd never thought he was _that _guy. Maybe it was because she was Voldemort ugly. In fact she and Voldemort might have made a good pair, there was certainly something serpent-like about her. Her skin looked scaled and around her mouth the texture was even more noticeable. And while death had paled her features he was fairly certain that it hadn't added the green tinge to her skin that made her look even more reptilian. He didn't mean to be judgmental, but when it came to the snakefaced Voldemort had done quite the number on his psyche.

Snap out of it, Harry lectured himself. She didn't drop dead of her own accord.

That thought sobered him and he glanced at Wolverine. His friend seemed to be well aware that the woman before them hadn't met a peaceful demise. His hands were squeezed so tightly that his knuckles looked like bleached bone. Harry wondered if his stronger senses made the experience worse in some regards, Harry himself had been breathing through his mouth even though the cold negated any chance of an odor.

"It was you taking care of the guards outside," Wolverine suddenly stated with a voice that seemed to hide all emotion.

Harry struggled to think back. "Oh yeah, I just knocked them out before you guys opened the gate." Harry sounded almost apologetic as he continued to gaze at the strange woman's face, as if killing them might have been the real justice.

Wolverine nodded slowly. "Might not have helped us much, they seemed pretty prepared. Must have figured out we'd breached their outer defenses."

"Look at you, sounding like a solider," Harry pointed out with a poor attempt at humor.

"Maybe I was one once," Wolverine's words were oddly nostalgic "Before some experiment wiped my memories and made me what I am." His hand reached out and rested close to the woman's face, not touching but sliding across the metal tray she rested on in a manner that looked like a caress.

Harry remained silent, absorbing this information about the older man with downcast eyes. As he gazed at the woman again he saw no more beauty that he had at first, but he wondered what Wolverine saw and he wished he could offer some consolation for all the brokenness.

Wolverine's arm moved quickly and with a swift snap the drawer was closed and she was gone from Harry's sight, the room felt a little less deary. Although as Harry gazed at the wall of similar metal drawers he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. Voldemort was monestrous, but there was something about this neat precision that matched the horror the magical madman had made stroke for stroke.

"They must be bring them here from somewhere," Harry found himself saying, "I didn't see any sort of holding cells from the way we came."

Wolverine nodded in agreement, he jerked his head toward another door that was positioned opposite of the one they had entered. After some careful listening they opened it and found themselves in a short hallway that lead to a lone elevator. It was the massive sort, wide doors and a good amount of space inside. The proportions were similar to that of a muggle hospital, although once again the presence of a metal lock made it inaccessible without a key code— or an unlocking charm.

Wolverine waited patiently while Harry worked his magic and the two boarded feeling rather insecure.

"So. . . are we just going to wander around until we run into more soldiers?" Harry asked.

Wolverine shrugged, "Either that or we might run into the mutants that we are supposed to rescue or maybe Xavier's little super team. I rather run into either first, but between the two of us I think we'll mange either way."

Harry found himself smiling, which was wrong given their current situation. Still, both he and Wolverine had a very fluid sort of response to dangerous situations. And allowing them to wander around this facility free was, as unflattering as it sounded, like introducing a virus into a bloodstream. They could wreck terrible havoc and were essentially impossible to stop. Bullets and darts, likely even any sort of sedative wouldn't work for long in Wolverine and Harry was agile and powerful enough to escape almost all kinds of muggle attack.

A small beep announced they'd arrived at another floor.

"Two very nervous guards," wolverine announced quietly.

"Where are they?" Harry asked.

Wolverine smiled, "Coming this way."

Wolverine must have needed the release, and Harry wasn't about to begrudge him it. With steady, almost predatory movements, he ducked out of the elevator and a few moments after leaving Harry's sight a strangled yell was quickly silenced by the slick sound of Wolverine's claws. When Harry emerged the two men that Wolverine had heard were crumpled on the floor, Harry didn't bother looking too closely to see how exactly his partner had incapacitated them.

The current hallway was a little more interesting, lined with doors that looked very familiar. Harry distinctly recalled spending a few days locked on the other side of a door like these. There was another locking mechanism, located at a point near the elevator, and Harry waved his hand at the device, marveling as all the doors clicked open.

Wolverine shared a glance with Harry, "This should be interesting," he commented.

There was silence for a moment until a curious head peered from behind the doors. "Who are you?" the head asked.

"Nobody," Wolverine said quickly.

Harry chuckled darkly, watching is some amusement at Wolverine's uncomfortable stance. The mutant shot him an annoyed gesture before straightening up.

"That is to say, Charles Xavier sent us to bust you out."

The head emerged more prominently now, it was attached to the thin gangly body of a boy who didn't look to be out of his teens. He was very lean and tall, his blond hair hanging straight as a pin. A few more heads emerged as well, and Harry had a feeling that quite a few individuals were waiting to see how well things played out.

"Xavier, I've heard of him," there was strong Scottish accent attached to his words Harry noted. The man glanced at the other cells, speaking louder, "The American telepath right?"

Wolverine nodded. "Yeah, this all of you?"

Another figure emerged from a little further down the hall. "No," the other boy answered. "There are some of the older ones, the more offensive types on another level." This mutant was even younger than the first. He wasn't as lean as the first, nor as tall either, thick curly brown hair hung like a curtain entirely shielding his eyes from view.

"If they are still alive," the first blond mutant offered negatively.

A small sob escaped another room at this pronouncement.

"Don't talk like that," the dark haired man growled. He crossed to one of the cells and opened it with a sharp tug, "He's just being a prat Mia. They're fine, I'm sure."

A small girl with a blur of matted brown hair bolted from the cell and was soon hugging the younger boy around the middle, her sobs chocked by the fabric of his shirt.

There was something familiar about the dark haired boy but Harry found himself struggling to decipher what it was.

More mutants were emerging now. None seemed to be over twenty, the tall blond might be the oldest. Their faces were a little pale, they looked a little thin, some sported bandages and most had small bruises at the crook of their arms, likely from IVs or perhaps inoculations of some kind. Harry didn't like to think about how young some of the children looked.

"I heard some of them tried to escape," one little brown haired boy who had ears that looked like a bat's said softly.

"When'd you hear that Mouse," the older mutant with dark hair asked. He detached himself from the little girl, Mia, handing her over to a girl whose skin and hair were blacker than black. Mia wrapped her arms tighter around the dark girl as the oddly familiar mutant moved toward the small boy who had spoken.

"Few days ago," the young boy answered. "I'm pretty sure they're a few floors down.

For no explainable reason the dark haired mutant looked down and then cursed under his breath, "Bloody antimantium beams, place looks like a twisted tangle."

"There is no escaping this," the blond stated dourly, "It's like hell, even now we aren't getting out alive. Not with just two of you."

The Scottish mutant's comment did draw the attention back to Harry and Wolverine, although the others seemed to be trying to squash the other half of his statement.

"No, we can do it," the other boy rallied, "If they broke in then they can get us out. If we all work together, using our abilities, there has to be a way to manage it."

Harry stopped short, he suddenly had a very good idea why the boy seemed so familiar. The hair was longer, the frame a bit more muscular and the tinge of venom in his voice almost a foreign thing— but for all those changes there was no mistaking the former Hufflepuff.

"Justin?' Harry asked aloud.

The dark haired boy turned hesitantly, looking closely at Harry for the first time. "Er...do I know you?" he asked curiously.

"Ye— no, I guess not." Harry forced himself to look away. In another life he'd tried to save this boy from a snake and wound up being labeled a parselmouth for his trouble. But that was another world, and in meeting this Justin's eyes Harry knew that it had been another Justin Flinch-Fletchly.

Harry didn't really remember what color eyes Justin had back home, but he was certain that his eyes hadn't been the metallic silver that now shaded not only his iris but his pupil and even the whites of his eyes had taken on the mysterious sheen.

Justin was a mutant.

"Look," the blond said firmly, "Even if we could get to the floors below it's not like we can do anything. They put us in this area for a reason." He turned to Justin, "What you going to do?_ See_ them to death?"

"Trent," Justin growled, "You shut up or I'll shut you up. We aren't leaving the others behind."

Such a Hufflepuff Harry thought to himself, proud to see his old classmate in there somewhere.

"And, sure we maybe can't fry them to a crisp like Torch would, but we aren't useless and neither are they," Justin pointed to Harry and Wolverine, then nudged his head toward the two soldiers who hadn't moved from their crumpled positions on the floor.

The blond, Trent, seemed to think this over a bit.

"But X..." a soft voice intruded. It was the small girl from earlier and Justin turned to look at her when she spoke, he seemed to loose some of his resolve as he took in her pale face. "I can't," she didn't speak this, it came out like sob and the black skinned girl behind her patted her shoulder soothingly.

"They hurt me so bad last time, please, let's just go X-ray," she clutched her arms shaking weakly and hanging her head in shame.

Justin looked torn, moving to the girl and running a hand up and down arm, "It's okay Mia, you don't have to...But I can't leave the others."

"I'm terrible," Mia cried again.

The dark girl behind her shook her head firmly. "No, this isn't your fault." Her voice was oddly soothing given the situation but when she looked up Harry saw a sort of fury in her eyes.

Wolverine coughed. "Yeah well..." He looked toward Harry.

Harry shrugged.

There were probably ten to fifteen mutants being held in this particular corner of the facility. Most of them seemed to be teenagers, the youngest probably twelve the oldest maybe twenty. And judging by the conversations that were springing up around them, it wasn't difficult to sense the despair and lack of focus that most of them were struggling with. Having endured his own long-term imprisonment Harry had an odd insight into what these mutants were going through. And no matter what their ability, probably none of them were really in any condition to fight against their captors. It was a psychological thing, something that Harry really didn't want to know about but did. Some people emerged from this sort of thing stronger and others didn't.

"I can get you out," Harry announced, his assuring tone disrupting the quiet babble of voices. And he had a feeling that he really could. Because he'd considered something that he hadn't the last time he'd been trapped in such a facility. Apparition may be broken...but there were other ways.

"Sure, we'll just tell them we're going for a stroll," the blond, Trent, said sarcastically.

Harry grinned, "We all have gifts right?"

The teens suddenly looked a lot more interested.

Harry looked around the hallway, it was a seamless place with little in the way of arbitrary decoration. The people themselves were similarly attired, all wearing the grey shirt and drawstring trousers that he had been given. But one girl caught his eye. She had long brown hair that was being pushed back by a plain plastic headband.

"Mind if I borrow this?" Harry asked with a wink.

She seemed a little perturbed at the casual attitude but handed him the hair accessary without emotion.

"Should I send them to the jet or to the school," Harry asked Wolverine.

"You can send them to the school?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Right, magic."

Harry held his hand over the item and crowd muttered when it glowed a light blue color. "Just take a deep breath and hold on, a finger will do," Harry instructed.

"I'm staying," Justin pronounced with a certainty that seemed to leave no room for argument.

And Harry and Wolverine weren't really the arguing type. Both shrugged in a noncommital way of acceptance.

"I'll stay as well," the black girl said, she aligned herself next to Justin and the pair nodded to each other with confidence.

Once again Harry and Wolverine shrugged.

"Er..." the pessimistic blond looked hesitant, "I guess I'll stay too," he said glumly, as if somehow they were putting a gun to his head.

"Don't do us any favors," Justin said, the heavy sarcasm causing the tall lanky boy to frown in his direction. But he didn't say anything else and his surly face remained a distance away from the innocent looking headband.

"X," the small girl said softly, she moved to Justin and took his hand. "You'll be okay X. You're really smart, you'll find Mum and Dad and bring them home." How much of this was for Justin and how much was for her own benefit was questionable.

Soon the collection of teenagers had grouped around the hair band, each finding a space to place a finger. Most looked a little doubting. As was Harry himself truth be told.

"Here we go," the young wizard said hopefully. "Don't let go."

With a bright flash and loud noise that sounded slightly like air traveling over the wing of a speeding jet, the young mutants in their cotton pajama were whisked form the room and hopefully deposited safely hundreds of miles away at Mutant High.

"Good I was hoping that would work," Harry confided in Wolverine. "Portkey travel is a little bit like opening a gateway, and not as physical as apper— teleportation you'd call it."

Wolverine tried to look like that made all the sense in the world, although one thing was bothering him. "If you could do that, why didn't you magically disappear from your own cell?"

Harry fought a smile and looked embarrassed, "Truth be told I didn't think on. I'm actually rubbish when it comes to the theory of it, guess I nixed my methods of travel when one didn't work."

"You're the forgetful sort," Wolverine commented, then scratched his head, "Not as if I'm one to talk."

Harry didn't question this, instead he turned back to the three mutants that had stayed behind, he sized them up briefly but the evaluation was broken up when a short snap of gunfire blasted somewhere above them, reminding them very quickly of where they were.

"So if you know where we should go now would be a good time," Wolverine hinted, he raised his dark eyebrows.

Justin's gaze once again dropped to the floor.

"So, er, Justin those eyes of yours..."

"It's X-ray now," Justin quickly stated, his silver gaze meeting Harry's for a moment.

"No need to ask what you can do," Wolverine commented.

Justin chuckled, "Sort of basic I'll admit, but what can I say. It stuck." His eyes were once again searching below the floor. "The hallways have less paneling than the cell. I can see through most things but Adamantium is a little tough, makes things look very cloudy, and they have enough here to make it difficult."

"I'm Midnight," the girl with black skin stated.

"Trent, but they call me Last."

"For Elastic," Midnight offered in a way that sounded teasing.

Both Harry and Wolverine seemed a little surprised at the sudden introductions, especially as a closer blast of gunfire seemed to prevail upon them the dire circumstances they were in. Still they offered their names swiftly and turned back to Justin who was still examining the floor with a good deal of interest.

He squinted his eyes, focusing on a spot beneath them and to the left.

"If I had to say, based on the higher concentration of metal...maybe two floors down and that way."

Wolverine nodded, "Good enough for me."

The hallway itself was still looking rather secure, except for the guards slumped on the floor. It wouldn't fool anyone, but Harry placed them in a cell and re-locked the doors before moving on. Taking the hallways further and leaving from another locked door.

The hallways in this portion of the facility were maze-like, all the same color and stretching on in an endless manner that made it difficult to tell if they were going anywhere. Most looked empty but a few doors were spaced evenly though out. They'd opened the first few but they mostly seemed to be holding supplies, some food, more of the gray prisoner uniforms. They also found an empty break room with soda machines and coffee, as well a small lab with computers and microscopes. But everything was empty and of no use. Eventually they stopped checking the doors.

At one point the halls started slanting downward again, but X-ray was quick to point out that they were getting away from their main objective. They doubled back and found another branch of the tunnels leading more in their direction.

"Where are the stairs, this is taking too long, there have to be soldiers patrolling."

Harry knew that Last was right, and probably the only reason they'd been allowed such free reign thus far was because the three X-men had made a much more dramatic exit upstairs and likely the bulk of the military forces where chasing them. No one had seen Harry and Wolverine looked practically harmless compared to Cyclop's optic blasts.

Still it was only a matter of time before they ran into someone, and despite the young mutants enthusiasm, Harry really didn't know how capable they would be in a fight.

X-ray scanned the hallways again, his vison giving him a more three-dimensional view of where they were. The others could only see endless hallways.

Justin rubbed his head, "There is just too much of the damned adamantium," he cursed, "and they seem to just have these ramps going up and down.

"How close are we," Wolverine asked.

"Really, if we could get there. The cells are almost directly two floors under us. Least, I think they are cells, they have the same adamantium panels and the electrical currents. But I can't see inside so..."

"Any guards below us," Wolverine asked, his eyes flickering downward.

"No," Xray said with a shrug.

"And not so many of these panels in the hallways," Wolverine clarified.

Harry was starting to have a sneaking suspicion of where this was heading.

Justin, not so in tuned to the wild mutant's personality was less aware and merely nodded in answer to Wolverine's question.

The three young mutants drew back sharply when wolverine raised his fists and extended a sharp set of claws from his knuckles. With the force of a punch, he drove the adamantium claws into the floor below. It was mostly concrete, and the sharp claws tore though it easily. He was forced to maneuver around a metal beam and received a severe shock from an electrical wire that had been inside a plastic tube. But he shook off the near electrocution as if it were nothing more than an annoyance. And after a little effort an uneven circle, large enough to fit even someone of Wolverine's size had been hewn in the floor.

Wolverine gave the etched formation a solid kick and was verified when the floor dropped away, leaving a good sized hole in the floor. Harry deftly caught the falling concrete, setting it down more quietly.

Wolverine hopped down, and Harry followed at more controlled pace, as well as helping the other mutants who had to worry about little things like broken bones.

"I can see a little better now," X-ray said confidently, his head panning along the floor and the walls.

His strange metallic eyes seemed to be looking closely at specific areas.

"They're definitely down there, and..." he grinned and sent sort of amazed look at Wolverine, "We can take the stairs this time."

"Any guards?" Harry wanted to know.

"Uh..." X-ray worried his lip a bit, "Yeah, you could say that?" His walked down the hallways seeming to count. "Er, a lot. Think they must be on high alert or something."

"How many is a lot," Wolverine grunted.

" 'Bout twenty or so."

"Shite," Last commented, he ran his hand through his hair and looked like he was wondering how he'd gotten here. "That's impossible."

"Not impossible," Justin argued, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the older boy. "Telltale could do it easily."

"Yeah well none of us can control people's minds by just talking to them," Last pointed out, his voice starting to sound slightly hysterical.

"Unless..." Justin turned to Harry with an expectant expression.

"No," Harry said shaking his head. "Keep myself well away from the branches of mind control."

"If only it were dark," Midnight said suddenly. "We could get a jump on them, you wouldn't think they'd have night vision goggles?"

"Naw," X-ray said, his mind seeming to think up a plan. "The soldiers guarding us only had the standard issue, you know, gun and low intelligence."

Harry snorted at the joke and Wolverine raised an eyebrow.

"If we could make it dark, maybe Harry could sneak in there and unlock the doors. But they look like they have separate circuits." Justin looked closely nodding his head.

"But then we'd have the others in there to sort of even the battle. With all of them and us, it'd be no contest." Justin's enthusiasm seemed a little misplaced considering the sudden sound of a distant explosion, but the idea had merit. Harry liked the simplicity of it, and while Wolverine seemed to be a disappointed at the covert nature of the mission, he was nodding as well.

"Problem," Last pointed out, "How are we going to make it dark? And it's gonna have to be temporary, cause even if we knew where they kept the generators, and even if we destroyed one, we're miles underground. It's going to be black as pitch so even if we found our way out of this maze and managed to free the others, no one is going to be able to know who they are fighting."

Justin frowned but didn't seem to dismiss Last's concerns.

"I can make it dark in that hallway for a bit," Harry offered.

They gazed at him with some confusion.

"Just go with it," Wolverine advised.

"But Last has a point, how am I going to see to get near those locks? I can't be far away and it isn't going to be safe to wander around with so many armed people."

"Seeing isn't going to be the problem," Midnight said, her dark lips curling into a smile to reveal a pair of very white teeth.

-

A few moments later the small band of insurgents stood silently in a stairwell. Harry and Midnight were poised at the thick metal door. Like all the doors in this section of the building, it had been fit with another of the complicated mechanical locks. There was however, a very small, plexiglass, barred peephole that allowed them a very limited view of the small cellblock. It was enough for Harry to see the source of light, like the rest of the building, two row of florescent tubes that ran along the sides of the ceiling.

But first Harry concentrated on the lights in their stairwell as he whispered a spell that should result in a temporary darkness. Worked for candles anyway. But the principal was the same, and with a little extra force of magic, the lights flickered off leaving the mutants in a darkness that seemed to contain a heavy quality. The light from the small peephole in the door provided the only light to see by.

"Okay, here goes," Harry muttered. This time he concentrated on the other room, and now with more confidence he whispered his spell and couldn't stop the smile on his face when they were plunged into darkness.

Midnight's hand grabbed his and Harry trusted her to guide him forward. She stopped his hand and tapped her nails on his palm in a silent signal.

Alohomora, Harry thought,

Midnight shook his hand, and they moved passed the metal door. Harry held out his hands blindly to try and find the edges but once again Midnight seemed to latch on him, maneuvering herself so that she was right in front of him. She was just a little taller than him perhaps, and she moved slowly her back staying within touch of Harry's chest. She took of his left hand and held onto with her own, stretching both their palms out.

Once they cleared the door the noise started in earnest.

"Stay in stations," A commanding voice roared over the muttered confusion. "We must have lost one of the generators but the back up will be on shortly. Stay on your guard."

Harry wished he could see what Midnight did. To him it felt like he was moving though some dark sea and voices drifted past him. Once again Midnight reached out his hand and tapped his palm with her nail. Harry silently said the unlocking charm and was satisfied when a small beep met his ears.

They had decided to wait until all the doors were unlocked, and they made no move to open the door. Harry was once again dragged into his dance with Midnight. It seemed that not everyone was following their commanding officer's orders because Midnight stopped short a few times and twisted Harry silently in some way. Once she had them duck into a low crouch, another time they were plastered against a wall.

Harry was beginning to feel like he was losing his mind, he couldn't remember ever being somewhere so dark, and the vague notion that hostile presences were bobbing around in it with him wasn't exactly soothing. He'd preformed near on a dozen unlocking charms and thanks to their need for silence Harry had no idea how many more there were.

He had kneeled low and was moved on to another one when something touched him.

It was a shock to the senses, that there would be something else solid here. He'd grown used to Midnight's guiding hand but this was different.

"That you Carl," a gruff voice to his voice left.

"What you on about?" a voice to the right responded.

Midnight grabbed his shoulders suddenly and pulled back with enough force to knock him on his back. He hit the floor as silently as he could but the surprise had made his breathing a little heavy. And Midnight was gone, he knew he was sprawled in the hallway somewhere, trained killers above him and without her trusty guidance that seemed a lot less fun.

"Quit with the spook show," Carl said seeming to dismiss the other man.

"I told you I felt something!"

Harry stayed very still as he heard the sound of something swinging through the air. Other voices joined in as the anxiety lifted.

"Best just get on with it," Midnight's voice whispered. She was so close to his ear that he could feel her breath.

Harry rose to his feet as he sensed more than felt Midnight leave his side. He counted to ten slowly before turning the lights on.

It was blind havoc for a moment as they all tried to readjust from their time in the dark. And just as they could see again everyone became aware of certain things that shouldn't be there. Including a teenage boy standing in the middle of the cellblock.

Guns pointed in Harry's direction, which was a good distraction as Wolverine came charging in from the stairwell, his claws extended as he swept into the room. Harry discreetly waved his hand and all the previously locked cell doors opened.

Chaos was a good way to describe those next moments. Wolverine's assault continued to take down men and the bullets that ripped into his body seemed to only act as an irritation. Harry had to marvel at the older man's tolerance for pain. But he stopped watching Wolverine about the time that the guards near him decided to fire in his direction.

He hadn't exactly been trained to fight muggle bullets, still he reacted on instinct and decided that for him not getting hit might be the best method. He rolled to the side and summoned one of the cell doors to stand in front of him. Like in the facility that had held him, they were solid metal, over five cm thick. The door was also insanely heavy and his magic seemed to strain and buckle while holding it.

That was when he noticed the fire, exploding from his left a burst of blue flame suddenly roared through the hallways, singing the clean walls with soot and causing the men caught in it's path to scream as their uniforms caught fire.

The screams were the hardest part, Harry found himself glad that he couldn't see the sight from behind his barrier.

As the noise died down some Harry was about to look out when another person slid behind his shelter as smoothly as if he were on skates. Harry looked over, the man was dressed in the standard prison garb he himself had worn, he had thick dark hair and somewhat pale olive skin.

A burst of additional gunfire battered the door, following his new acquaintance.

The man winked at Harry before moving out from behind the door just as fast. Harry followed the man as he moved through the crowded hallways, his reflexes so sharp it seemed graceful. At least until he used his speed to ram his fist into one man's face, followed by a seamless elbow jab at another's nose. Maybe Harry was twisted, but there was something beautiful in that too.

More fire singed the room and the gunfire seemed to stop. Harry moved away to get a better grasp of the situation and finally found the source of the massive flames. Not a flame thrower as he'd been imagining, but rather a man whose face looked more serpentine or even dragon-like. His jaw came out like a snout and thick scales replaced his lips and ran upward to his eyebrows. Harry stood in some surprise as the man took a deep breath and then exhaled the same hot blue flames right at the hand of an injured guard who was reaching for a gun.

"Enough, Torch," a woman said in a controlling way. She looked odd among the two active mutants. The speedy mutant and his dragon-like friend just looked the sort to be fighting this war. The woman looked to be in her fifties, her short hair streaked gray and her face round and good natured.

"Cancer!" Justin's voice shouted from the stairwell.

"Mum," Midnight added. The two teens looked a great deal younger than they had seemed only moments ago. Both ran to the older woman and embraced her tightly.

Her facial expression softened and her lips trembled weakly. "Justin, Jennifer," she sniffled and her voice sounded rough. Her previous commanding manner vanished and she hugged the two teens tighter to herself.

"Have you...have you seen Mia?" she asked hesitantly.

"She's fine," Justin assured. "She and the others are safe, they got sent to New York."

"America?" The older woman questioned softly.

"Yeah, uh, they helped break us out," Justin gestured to Wolverine who seemed to be occupied shoving guards into the cells. The woman's gaze met Harry next and he had to fight the guilty feeling that he'd done something wrong.

"What was Xavier thinking," she scolded. "You're nothing more than a boy."

"He's got some cool skills though," X-ray added.

She looked upset for a moment, "You're both such children. You shouldn't have to deal with this mess."

Harry looked around, mess was a good way to describe it. Without a great deal of air current the smoke stayed, drifting about near the ceiling. And the floors were stained with blood. Wolverine had gone a long way to remove some of the bodies, injured or other wise. But Harry had seen his fair share of blood and carnage, and he couldn't even raise the energy to be upset anymore.

"Actually it seems like my kind of mess," he commented cynically.

Justin laughed, and the woman, Cancer, frowned.

"Dorene," a new voice intruded and everyone turned to see a man, mid thirties standing in the doorway to one of the cells. He was holding onto the door and he kept blinking his eyes, as if the floor was moving on him.

"Christopher, are you alright," Cancer crossed to the man and reached out to hold his arm.

Whatever fuzziness he had seemed to clear away some and the man looked closely at Cancer's face. "I think they've been putting something in my food...I have trouble staying awake."

"It's the same in here," the nimble mutant from before emerged from another of the cells, "Pat is in here, I can't wake him." He had a Spanish accent and a deep voice.

Cancer bit her lip, "Has anyone seen Thomas," her voice was a little shaky.

"Dorene," the man who looked like a dragon stood hesitantly by one of the doors. His voice sounded just like he looked, and his expression was difficult to read. "It doesn't look good," he warned her as she moved to the door.

Harry waited outside next to Justin and Midnight, both of whom looked like they'd frozen in fear. Midnight, who'd been so calm during their dangerous trek through the darkness was fidgeting with her hands and staring wide-eyed at the door Cancer had entered.

"He'll be alright," Justin said aloud to her, patting her arm in a clumsy way.

There was some muffled sort of noise from inside and Harry's gaze flickered to Justin and Midnight. Midnight was afraid, and seemed to be holding herself back. Justin's expression was just as easy to read, his eyes had become stony and his jaw line grew tense

"What did they do him, Torch?" Justin asked.

Torch seemed to think for a moment, Harry found his emotions impossible to read.

"They cut out his voice box."

"Those bastards!" Justin cursed harshly and his hands balled into fists at his side.

"Oh no!" Midnight clasped a hand over her mouth and ran into the cell.

Harry shared a glance with Wolverine. The man seemed very tightlipped since running into to the other mutants. He had decided, now that the room was clear of a militant force to essentially lean against the wall and cock his head as if listening to something. Harry did likewise for a moment and found he too could fear the faint explosions somewhere else in the building. It seemed the others were still on the move, which was a good thing.

But another noise, closer, stopped Harry short. He turned his head and listened for it again.

Bang.

It wasn't particularly loud, but it was coming from further in the cell block. Harry spied, with some surprise, a cell door that hadn't been opened. He supposed he hadn't really had time to check everything before all hell broke loose, he and Midnight had been forced to up their time table some.

The other mutants seemed busy investigating the cells, Justin was standing hesitantly at the room that must hold Thomas Winters. It seemed that the cells with filled with people who had been either too drugged or weak to come out on their own.

Harry moved his hand over the lock and barely needed to think the words before the small beep alerted him that the door had been unlocked.

Harry reached a hand out and opened the door, and a man, looking worn and thin, his black hair a tangle, fell to the floor weakly.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, helping the man to his feet.

The man coughed and relied on Harry's shoulder to steady himself.

That was when Harry's heart stopped beating, his lungs released the air in them and he stood feeling like his stomach had fallen to the floor.

"Sirius?" He asked weakly.

The man, that looked so much like his Sirius, blinked his gray eyes tiredly. How could Harry not recognize him, he looked just as weak as he had after asking Azkaban. The health that he had recovered looked like it had been washed from him.

"Harry?" he asked sounding filled with disbelief, "Harry, oh Merlin, I've finally found you."

Sirius clung to Harry's shoulder, wrapping onto his arms and drawing him closer. Harry felt numb. Sirius. He hadn't actually expected to find Sirius. How could Sirius be here? He reached up and wrapped a arm around Sirius's shoulder. The man seemed smaller, or maybe Harry had grown. It only seemed to highlight even more the simple and extraordinary fact that Sirius was alive, and here. Something he hadn't really let himself hope. How could this happen?

And what happened next?

-

-

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the latest installment in Harry's journey. I've endeavored to give you a chapter that was hopefully worth the wait. Can't even tell you how often I wanted to divide it in two etc. but this simply needed to be all together. In my planning I suppose I hadn't realized to what detail this one chapter would need to be. Well, you have it now I suppose.

Thank you to those who have reviewed, I made it past 1,000. Baffles the mind at times. But I hope that you can stay with me and rest assured I have every intention of finishing the fic. I already know the end is after all, and I think you'll like the ride.

Chapter produced sans beta, so feel free to point out all the errors you like, if you're detailed enough I'd be glad to fix any.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Evening of the Day

-

-

Harry found himself forgetting, quite easily actually, exactly where he was. He forgot, for instance, that he was miles underground in a classified government facility. He forgot that he was in another world where magic had been pulled out from under him. And for a moment, if only for that moment, he remembered what it was like to be fifteen and feel like he'd lost Sirius forever.

But that moment passed and the world came crashing down on him.

A furious explosion blasted through the other end of the hallway, debris flew everywhere, metal plaster, for a moment no one could see anything. Perhaps it was lucky for everyone involved that Harry had been closest to the source of the blast, he'd thrown out his hand and managed to stop most of the dangerous debris from slicing through their bodies like shrapnel.

The pieces that used to be part of a wall clattered to the floor as Harry stood poised to face whatever came out of the hole next. He didn't need to turn his head to know that Wolverine was beside him, and behind them the other mutants were ready to fight for freedom if need be.

"Idiot," Wolverine muttered first, his tense posture slackening as he seemed to sense something Harry couldn't.

Harry trusted Wolverine's instincts enough that he too relaxed.

Three Mutants came stumbling out of the hole that one of them had caused.

"Well this is surprising," Harry muttered.

"Where have you been," Cyclops said, he seemed rather annoyed, dirty and tired. He'd spotted Wolverine, who had stepped, for some reason, in front of Harry. "I knew you weren't ready to be part of the team, it was a mistake to try and—"

"Scott," Jean said in an equally annoyed voice.

Harry momentarily had to wonder what had been happening to the others to have Jean lose her cool.

"We can talk about this later, beside looks like we found the other cellblock." She gestured to the prison-garbed mutants who were standing behind them all looking at the other three with some confusion.

"I told you it was this way," A very short man said. He had some difficulty clearing the hole that had been made, standing at only 1.2 meters, still he definitely wasn't a child if the wrinkles were any indication. Behind him more prisoners seemed to be tiredly making their way past the somewhat unorthodox entrance.

"Mike," Cancer said sounding relieved, her expression looking pleased when she saw the shorter man.

"Dorene," Mike walked past Harry and Wolverine. The taller woman bent down to give the other man a hug.

"How is he?" Mike asked seriously.

"It's...he's still alive," Cancer answered, her upbeat tone trying to hide the truth a bit.

Mike nodded, his expression said clearly that he hadn't been distracted.

Harry watched as about seven or eight people quickly moved to Dorene and joined the others who were milling about the cell block. Pleasantries and some relief were exchanged but the situation was too tense to really relax and several of the newcomers kept glancing back to the hole they had caused as if something had been following them. Come to think of it, something probably was.

"What's the situation," Cyclops said nearing Wolverine, "How many are mobile?"

Wolverine shrugged, "A few, most seem to be knocked out with drugs."

"I was worried about that," Cyclops said. "This is the 'dangerous' mutants cells."

"We need to get to the kids as well," Jean said approaching the others with her concern evident on her face.

"Already got them," Wolverine said.

"Where are they?" Cyclops wanted to know suspiciously. Aside from Midnight, Justin and Last, there didn't seem to be anyone under 25.

"Yeah well..." Wolverine raised an eyebrow at Harry.

The other's caught the gesture and for the first time recognized the young man that was standing behind Wolverine.

"Harry?!" Jean demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"You know, taking the tour. Can't wait for the gift shop. I'm getting one of those T-shirts that says Vini, Vidi, Vici."

The X-men stared at him blankly, almost as if he'd spoke another language.

"Jokes don't go over well," Wolverine muttered, "They think this is serious."

"Very Sirius," another voice said, releasing a rusty sounding chuckle.

Harry turned to look at his godfather, the man was able to stand on his own feet, although he looked shaky. He seemed to be observing the situation in a weary sort of way. Harry quickly sent a small gesture to 'shut the hell up', it looked like carelessly wiping a hand across your mouth but it was a code that had saved the Marauders many times.

Sirius nodded slightly.

"Harry this isn't the place for you," Jean argued.

"This is precisely the place for me," Harry replied back. He strode out from behind Wolverine and the older man seemed to think Harry was nuts.

"He's here now," Storm cut in before the others could say anything. Glancing backwars she said, "There isn't any point arguing about it. We need to decide the best way to get these people out."

"Yeah, about that," Wolverine glanced at Harry.

Dorene neared the group with a steady walk, "Hello dears," she greeted, sounding for all the world as if they had simply popped in for tea. "I think we should settle things quickly, X-ray tells me he sees a large group of people only one floor up."

Justin stood behind her hesitantly, he too seemed to look at Harry with emphasis.

"Yeah, we better get going," Harry agreed.

"Yes," Dorene said softly, "Justin has been telling me that you have a unique gift. I've..._spoken_ with Thomas and he agrees that it would all be for the best if we left Britain for the moment and regrouped with Xavier at his school."

"We can send the sick ones there now," Harry said taking control of their travel plans while Scott seemed to watch him closely. "Maybe the rest of us should get back to the jet before the sun rises."

It seemed that the older mutants were willing to listen and believe Harry quite quickly considering the situation. Jean and Dorene gathered up a majority of the mutants who were injured or drugged in some way. Harry directed them how to use Portkeys and, while they looked doubtful, everyone followed his advice. They were just beginning to hear the heavy thud of footsteps when most of the people in the room simply disappeared from sight, only the slight whooshing of wind to accompany their departure. Harry suspected that most people hadn't really believed him until that moment.

"To the jet," Cyclops said. As always his expression was difficult to read, but he seemed to be pretty accepting given the situation.

Storm, Cyclops, Wolverine, reached out and grabbed hold of the broken piece of plastic piping that Harry had found. Torch stared at Harry very distrustfully, and Harry had the distinct feeling that the man wouldn't feel much pity in turning him into a shish kabob given the motivation. The quick Spaniard however looked a little more trusting but his expression was rather stern all the same. Midnight had gone with Cancer, but Last and Justin had remained behind. As had Sirius, despite that fact that Jean looked more than willing to tie him to a bed— in the un-fun way.

"Here goes," Harry said with a grin.

Gunfire erupted, but with a rushing blast of air the mutants and wizards left the Northern facility behind and landed painfully on the deck of the X-jet.

"Shit," Wolverine cursed as he flung head first into one of the chairs.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Harry said. Small spaces really didn't work well for this.

Sirius laughed outrageously of course.

"Let's get in the air before the sun rises," Scott directed and Storm picked herself up from the pile on the floor to agree with his orders.

"Buckle up," she shouted back at the others.

"We're just going to leave it standing," Torch yelled, his deep voice hissing slightly.

"We don't have a choice--- "

"Let me out," Torch interrupted, "I'll burn it to the ground."

"Hear, hear," Justin muttered under his breath. Few of the other mutants on the jet didn't seem particularly opposed to this plan either.

Scott stood, his face expressionless, "I under stand the sentiment," he said slowly. "But it would be a suicide mission, and whatever action that the Professor and Telltale decide will need all of us. Anyway," he looked slightly sheepish. "The building has become…structurally unsound…I don't think it will be operational again for some time."

Torch didn't agree, but something in Cyclop's argument must have convinced him because he sat in one of the chairs and stared ahead. His action acted as a signal for the others, as it was long before everyone was preparing for takeoff.

Harry and Sirius snagged seats near each other, as did Justin.

"Harry is that really you?" Sirius said quietly, his voice barely getting over the roar of the engines as Storm concentrated on a vertical takeoff.

Harry glanced at Justin, "Later," he directed. Although, quite honestly he was wondering the same thing. Was this his Sirius? What was he doing here? Tonks had said that the veil lead to an infinite number of worlds, what were the chances that he and Sirius had managed to find the same one.

He wasn't that lucky was he?

"I've never seen you two before," Justin commented. The jet had reached its elevation and the noise seemed less formidable now that they were slicing through the air. It wouldn't be long before they were over the Atlantic and back to New York state. "Everyone else here is from the Haven," he added his expression pensive.

"No. We're from somewhere else," Harry said trying to meet the former Hufflepuff's silver gaze.

"He your Dad?" Justin asked.

Harry shared a glance with Sirius, "No, he's my Godfather."

"You with the Rats?" Justin questioned more.

Harry had no idea why Rats would be capitalized. "Nope, just by myself. We've been by ourselves," Harry said quickly including Sirius in whatever illusion he was creating. He hoped that Justin dropped whatever game of twenty questions he was planning. It had been easier to fool the X-men. The Yanks, while well informed, hadn't known exactly how things worked in England. It was going to be much more difficult to play dumb now.

Justin still seemed to stare at him in confusion, "So have we met somewhere before?"

Ah, Harry understood the confusion now. "I guess you could say that we met a long time ago."

Justin frowned, "You weren't at Eton, I'd remember if you were there."

Harry remembered a Herbology class when Justin Flinch-Fletchly had mentioned planning to go to Eaton before he had gotten his Hogwarts letter. "So you really went to Eton," Harry mused aloud.

"For a bit," Justin admitted, although he didn't seem pleased about it, "You know, until people figured out my little secret. It's a little tough to hide," Justin pulled back his curly hair that often obscured his eyes, the silver was very distracting. "People at school weren't really...accepting. Neither were Mum and Dad, truth be told."

Harry wasn't certain how to reply to that, "So what'd you do," he asked mostly because the silence seemed to have dragged on long enough.

"Cleared out my bank fund and trust and went to the Haven. Found Telltale's site online. It was sort of cryptic but well when you're a mutant freak you can find it easily enough. And then Cancer took me in, she adopts everyone I think." There was real warmness in his voice when he spoke of Telltale and Cancer, although his expression seemed to grow harsh the more he thought about them.

Harry supposed it couldn't be easy what had happened to them.

"So did they capture everyone at...The Haven?" He struggled to remember the name.

Justin shook his head looking a little smug. "Naw, we knew the Act would pass, half of the people went underground before they attacked. If you're older and look normal enough, s'not much of a big deal. It's people like Midnight and I that sort of stick out."

Torch seemed to have been listening to Justin and Harry's conversation and he laughed at Justin's comment.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Justin said to the older mutant, "No one is as big a freak as you are," he rolled his eyes and Torch just kept laughing in a cynical way.

"And some people have parents who aren't too bad, or mutant foster parents...we had more plans to get into hiding in the days prior to the Acts passing, but they must have been thinking the same thing. They attacked a few nights before." Justin's gaze seemed to grow cold for a moment.

He looked very different from the friendly Hufflepuff that Harry knew. There was something darker to this Justin, or so Harry thought. Even in the darkest days of the war, Harry had never seen him look this furious and disgusted.

"They burned down the compound in the middle of the night," he fumed. "Some of the kids don't even have powers yet. Telltale could have stopped them...somehow they knew. They invaded our house first, when I woke up they already had him knocked out and Cancer was crying."

Justin's anger was plain, and Harry couldn't really blame him.

"There is a traitor in the Haven," Torch said. His face was set emotionlessly at this pronouncement but around him people's faces flickered with the revelation of it.

"No," Justin said shaking his head.

Last, who was sitting next to Torch looked thoughtful, "It makes sense. How else would they know where Telltale lived, how to enter the Haven without setting off any alarms, they even knew all about his power and how to silence him."

"No," Justin said a little more forcefully this time. "No, who would betray us. Why would anyone?"

Such a loyal Hufflepuff, Harry thought ironically.

"People will betray you for all sorts of reasons," Sirius said his tone darker than Harry had gotten used to hearing. He sounded broken, like in that day in the Shrieking Shack when he'd planned to kill Peter. "Sometimes they just need the excuse."

Harry reached out a hand in warning to Sirius, his eyes flickering to the other man. But Harry's godfather was in another time and he didn't seem to pay much attention to Harry's touch.

"Fear," Torch proclaimed. "We knew the Mutant Act would pass. Someone turned coward and went to the other side for protection."

"Filthy little rat," Sirius muttered.

Justin seemed to flounder helplessly, he obviously didn't want to believe what was becoming obvious.

They let the subject drop and Harry was pleased that Sirius had let his anger subside some. The man was obviously exhausted from whatever had happened to him and it was with some relief that Harry watched him drop into sleep. A part of him wished that Sirius would have gone with Jean, the more Harry looked at him, the more he became convinced that Sirius needed something other than time to recover. A doctor might be good right now.

"So," Justin said. His gaze seemed to drift to the front of the plane. "Who is _She_."

The _she_ really didn't need to be explained. Storm was once again sporting her leather ensemble that seemed to hug all the right places. Harry too glanced forward, it was really sad that he seemed to have adjusted to the sight.

Still...

"She's my history tutor," he said with a grin.

Justin looked more than a little envious.

"This school must be brill," he said looking again at the teacher.

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug. He grew thoughtful, taking the statement seriously, "It's a nice place. And the Professor isn't bad, you know except the whole mind reading thing. The food is good..." Harry wondered what else to say, "I've only been there a fortnight," he explained.

"Yeah, where are you from?" Last interrupted. The blond had turned around in his chair and was looking back at Harry curiously. "Cause I think we would have heard of someone with a mutation like that."

"Er, well..." Remember what Harry had said about it being tricky to lie to these people. "A few places...They caught me in London and the X-men broke me out of a prepping facility."

"You didn't spend time with the Rats?" Torch asked, Harry hadn't even been aware he'd been listening.

"Nope," Harry said trying to smile casually.

"You're sneaky like them," Torch commented.

Harry did his best to look innocent.

But despite his best efforts it seemed that these new arrivals weren't quite willing to accept someone without a past. Harry was beginning to think that perhaps British Mutants had a tight-knit culture. Perhaps not that much different than the wizarding world, having a smaller hidden population could do that. Even Justin, trusting soul that he was, looked at Harry with a great deal of trepidation.

Screw it, Harry thought. What did he care? He had Sirius back and after all the bad stuff that had happened he didn't care if this charade only held together for a little longer.

Harry focused on his godfather and took in the thin frame. The man looked pale, and maybe a little clammy. Ill might be a better description really. Harry was sorely tempted to just take Sirius and disappear from this war. But he knew, looking at Sirius, that he couldn't leave the care and security of Xavier's school just yet. Sirius needed treatment, he needed Jean and her sterile hospital room. Harry could heal bullet holes, but he wasn't any better at diagnosing what was wrong than any other teenager. Not to mention most ailments had their corresponding potions... and Harry hadn't exactly run into any potion shops here. His healing knowledge would be sorely tested, charms could only take you so far.

Sirius wrapped his arms tighter around himself and frowned as he slept.

Harry tried not to see the scars that littered the man's wrists. Older and newer scars, white and red slashes, marred his pale skin.

Harry looked away, he didn't want to know what that meant.

-

When the plane touched down, Harry was certain that Sirius should have gone with Jean and bugger any consequences should their stories not align. Sirius's troubled sleep had turned into a state of unconsciousness that Harry couldn't wake him from and he felt sick and useless watching Cyclops and Wolverine carry his godfather into the medical wing of the X-men's underground fortress.

Jean was busy moving between the various cots that had been set up. Her clean medical room was very crowded, and not quite so clean anymore, bandages and other debris littered the floor. Harry could hear more voices further down the hall and he wondered how many people needed her attention. However many, the red head seemed to bear the pressure well.

"Set him down here," Jean ordered, she must have been waiting for them to return as she'd spotted them as soon as they had entered.

"The Professor wants to speak with you, he's next door," Jean instructed, glancing at Scott and giving him a tired smile.

Scott nodded, he gave Wolverine a glance and the other man shrugged in a noncommittal way but followed him out. Harry wondered what the Professor wanted, but he wasn't about to leave Sirius until he had some idea what was wrong.

"How long has be been unconscious?" Jean asked, her tone a little frosty.

"I don't know exactly," Harry admitted. "He fell asleep a couple hours ago."

Jean pursed her lips. "I'll need to check his vitals run some tests." She looked up at him sharply, "And you should be in bed. What were you thinking coming with us?"

Harry was beginning to understand the cause behind her attitude.

"Oh yeah," he said with shrug.

"Go on, I don't need any more patients," she said harshly, "We'll discuss this later."

"What are you my mother," Harry said disgruntledly. But he could see that any arguments would be pointless, and he couldn't help Sirius anyway. Still...

"You'll tell me when he wakes up," Harry demanded. His green eyes met Jean's and her frown melted a bit, she nodded her head while holding his gaze.

"I promise," she agreed.

Harry nodded, there wasn't anything else he could do for Sirius now.

When he left the medical treatment room behind, Harry felt somewhat adrift. He'd been filled with adrenalin most of the evening, playing the exciting game of invasion. He'd hoped to maybe give the X-men a hand, and perhaps see if he could find the other person who had emerged from the veil. Someone else had appeared on the train tracks not long after he had, and had been arrested.

He'd found Sirius instead. Had that been Sirius...and if so why had he arrived _after_ Harry? And how long could he keep this going now that Sirius was here? He had no idea if Sirius knew any sort of Occlumency. Did that mean that the Professor would have an open book to his godfather's mind?

He leaned weakly against the wall, looking up at the bright unfriendly light that illuminated this lower portion of Mutant High. He'd much rather be upstairs in the homey clutter of his dorm, or even the messy Rec Room, but he couldn't seem to get himself to move.

"Hi."

A voice brought him out of his stare. Harry turned to see a girl who looked around twelve, she was sitting on the floor, one arm wrapped around her knee while the other held a white cloth to her forehead.

"Hey," Harry said, he slid down the wall and settled on the floor beside her.

"He hurt bad?" she asked.

"Don't know," Harry replied. He lifted a hand and touched the white bandage she was holding to her head. She guessed what he meant and pulled her hand away for a minute. Harry tried not to let his emotion show, but it was hard to hold back the slight revulsion. What might have once been some sort of incision, running in a diagonal line across her forehead, hadn't been properly taken care of. It looked angry and infected.

"The lady doctor put some cream on it," the girl said, "But she thinks I might need stitches. Like Frankenstein." She frowned and was understandably upset. "You think it will look bad?" she asked him.

Harry raised his own hairline and showed off the lighting bolt scar that had made him famous.

She didn't look very impressed, "But you're a boy," she stated.

Harry grinned, "Guess you're right, a pretty girl like you shouldn't have a scar like this." He pulled the cloth away and looked closer at the cut. If Jean had treated any infection...his own special 'mutation' shouldn't hurt.

He rested his hand over the girl's cut and whispered a healing charm, when he pulled his palm away only smooth skin remained.

"There you go," he encouraged.

The girl raised her hand to her forehead cautiously, her eyes opening wide when she ran her fingers over the smooth skin. "I have to check!" she said rising to her feet with a smile. Looking far more energetic, she dashed into another room.

Harry was left alone in the hallway.

Somehow he felt loads better than he had only moments ago.

He was wondering what else he might be able to do when the young girl came back, this time her face bubbling up with happiness.

"You did it, you fixed it, thank you!" She hugged Harry tightly, not seeming to mind in the least that they had only just met.

"Can you help Patty?" she wanted to know next, looking up at him expectantly.

"Err...I don't know."

"Come look," she encouraged. "I told her you would," with a mighty tug she latched onto his arm and dragged him into former storage area that had been turned into an overflow room of sorts. While the more critical cases were being tended to by Jean across the way, those who were suffering from less dire complaints were resting on cots. The mood should be depressed, but most of the room's inhabitants seemed in good spirits. Several were sharing cots and sitting together, rejoicing in reunions.

The girl tugged him over to one such family that was gathered on a cot.

"Patty," the young girl said excitedly, "He's the one."

Patty, for so she must be, looked nothing like her friend, she was very tall with willowy lean features. Beautiful in a strange unnatural way. She also was sporting a deep gash down one of her arms.

Two adults were gathered beside her looking at Harry in some surprise.

"So _you_ helped Jenny?" the woman said curiously. "I thought your skill was teleportation?"

"It's a little complicated," Harry hedged. He looked closely at the deep gash. It seemed to have clotted and wasn't bleeding, but like Jenny's it was certain to leave a nasty scar. And Harry could understand not wanting to have any physical mementos of their time with the British government.

"What did Jean say?" he asked nervously. He wasn't a doctor and didn't want to cause more damage than good."

"Some stitches, bandaging." The man said. He was very broad. Neither of the two adults looked anything like the girls, still they stood protectively over them.

"Hmm, let me see if I can help," Harry offered. Once again he placed his hand over the cut and focused on a healing charm, nothing fancy.

"Oh!" Patty looked at her arm in surprise. "It doesn't even hurt anymore!" she said, her face smiling.

The woman bent down to hug Patty and Jenny seemed to throw herself into the hug.

"Thank you," the man said, he reached out and shook Harry's hand. "We're hoping they can forget about...everything."

Harry nodded, he knew a thing or two about scars.

From there, Harry became quite popular among his fellow mutants. He didn't see anyone he recognized here, Torch, Midnight, Justin and the others must be somewhere else. Mostly he vaguely recognized people who had emerged from Cyclops's door and some of the kids he'd freed with Wolverine. Although he was almost positive that one thirteen-year-old boy with green scaly skin had been a ravenclaw in another life. It was strange that he hadn't met any other counterparts wandering around.

Most of the healing charms he preformed were the basic sort, nothing as complex as what he had done for Syren and he felt fine, if only a little more tired when he met with his last patient.

"Thanks," a man with cat-like eyes thanked him with a nod.

Harry looked around, glad he had been of some help, but perhaps it was time he followed Jean's orders and went to bed. Staying up all night and fighting when he should be sleeping had worn at him and his brain felt fuzzy.

He had exited the room when she stopped him.

"That was a nice thing to do," Storm said, her voice sounding amazingly soothing after such a long night. She sounded almost as good as she looked.

"Not going to tell the doctor on me?" He asked with raised eyebrows.

"Think she'll figure it out," Storm teased him.

Harry ruffled his hair, it was an old gesture, something he must have inherited from his father along with the messy hair.

"Yeah, well," Harry wished he were in the more bantering mood.

"You look tired," she commented.

"Are you trying to tell me you want to put me to bed?" there something suggestive in that, and Harry couldn't deny the smirk. If he were less exhausted he might go through the trouble of being a gentleman.

Storm seemed to get it. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline and she blinked. Harry had the feeling that she was fighting a snappy remark.

"I think you should head to your dorm," She stated instead, seeming to reclaim her teacher voice.

"Yes ma'am," Harry agreed with a nod. To tired to bother with the elevator, Harry gave her a jerky nod before disappearing with a small pop.

-

Storm shook her head as she stared into space, but now that she was alone she couldn't really help the small smile that tugged at her lips. But she didn't waste time and hurried to rejoin the meeting that Xavier and his X-men were having with the Haven's council. There was precious little to smile about in that conversation.

She nodded to Scott when she reentered.

"Jean should be finished up soon," she announced. "Everyone is in stable condition for the moment. Some might take awhile for the drugs to flush out of their system."

Dorene, seated beside her husband Thomas, seemed to be particularly relieved at this. Thomas himself didn't look to be in good condition, his throat was heavily wrapped with a white gauze and eyes looked tired and sluggish.

However his mind seemed to be just as sharp as reputation claimed, and with Xavier's gift, the two leaders seemed to have no trouble communicating.

"That's true," Xavier said somberly. They had been doing this all night, the Professor responding to things that Thomas Winters had thought.

The Professor noted the curious glances, "Thomas is correct, there have already been enough losses. While a good number of mutants went underground, there is still a significant number that are _missing_."

Wolverine grunted and Xavier frowned. Everyone remembered Wolverine's telling of how he'd stumbled upon a morgue of sorts, and the body he had found there.

"We shall hope that not all of them met that fate."

This sparked gazes to flicker toward Torch. The man was stoic, almost seeming to possess no human emotion but Storm doubted that was how he really felt. The woman that Wolverine had found dead had been Torch's wife. Perhaps he had suspected she had been dead for some time, at least since the escape, but to have it confirmed must have been painful.

"It was chaotic," Dorene said hopefully, "Some of the others might have escaped, they have resources."

Thomas nodded.

"I am sorry we could not get to you sooner," Xavier said softly.

Thomas placed a hand on Xavier's, both men sharing a weary expression. Storm didn't like seeing the Professor this way, she could see the doubt in his eyes. After hearing the horrible things that had been done it was difficult to trust in the goodness of humanity.

But maybe it was good to see the doubt in his eyes, because she was filled with doubt herself. How could anyone hate that much? It seemed irrational.

"Yes, he has been surprisingly helpful," the Professor said thoughtfully, once again responding to something Telltale had thought.

"Yes, surprising," Xavier said again. He chuckled, "He seems to have many gifts. Including the ability to keep me out of his mind. And it was more than a little surprising when a group of children appeared in front of me, having traveled hundreds of miles by gripping a hair tie."

Storm knew whom they were talking about now.

Telltale smiled without sound.

"I don't know what you were thinking letting a boy come on a dangerous mission," Dorene said. She must have been good at reading into conversations, or maybe she just knew her husband.

"I didn't actually," Xavier said thoughtfully.

Scott turned and glared at Wolverine, "You knew he was there."

Wolverine shrugged earning Cancer's ire.

"He did fine," he mentioned.

"Yes," the Professor relented hesitantly. "Harry always seems to manage well enough."

"But," Scott said reading into the tone.

"Nothing," the Professor said, although he shared a glance with Telltale. It was strange that such a brief flicker of eyes should concern Storm. But some silent conversation passed between the two men and she couldn't help but wonder

"Now," the professor broached, changing the subject and tone quickly, "I think we have some ways to make our guests more comfortable for the time being, and we have several new students to help..."

Storm's attention trailed off for a moment while arrangements were being made. She couldn't help that her mind wouldn't leave Harry Potter alone. A mysterious young man with a power and mind of his own. Was it any wonder that two leaders of the mutant world were interested in him?

-

Harry yawned, he expected to enter a room that was dark. And while technically it was Saturday night, and technically the others didn't have class to wake up for the next day— maybe he was just old fashioned but teenagers actually did get some sleep...unless they had dark lords or evil military forces to do battle with. So he was slightly surprised to see not only Bobby and Pyro awake but Rogue seemed to have taken over residence of their room as well.

Music was playing from a radio and Pryo was flipping through a magazine looking calm and collected.

Maybe that should have been the first sign that something was wrong.

Bobby was sitting on his bed, as per usual his eyes seemed attached to Rogue who was poised on the edge of the bed tapping her feet and staring into space.

"Hey...morning?" Harry said looking at the alarm clock and seeing that it was long passed midnight.

They all just seemed to look uncertain.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

The two boys glanced at Rouge who frowned and crossed her arms irritably.

"Magneto escaped."

It took a little while for Harry to absorb all that had happened. Somehow while he'd been helping one set of prisoners escape, here in the States another breakout had occurred. The information was unclear and the teens only had what had been on the news in the Rec Room to base their opinions. But apparently Magneto must have gotten a hold on some metal and had broken out of the plastic prison that had contained him since the Liberty Island Incident.

Of course the new media was filled with rampant speculation what the 'dangerous' mutant's next move would be. And some of the anti-mutant politicians were using this a good opportunity for more mutant legislation grandstanding. The US government was doing its best to contain the information, and had released a press statement that Magneto had been shot while trying to escape.

Rogue snorted at the ridiculousness of such a statement. How could a man who was a master of all metal be hit with a _lead_ bullet?

"It's obviously a cover-up," Rogue said, "Which means they don't have any idea where Magneto is."

Bobby inched forward and rubbed her shoulders trying to release the tension that had been present since they had heard the announcement sometime after dinner.

"He probably broke out a few days ago," Pyro said cynically. "It's not like they want people to know that they failed."

"Not helpful," Bobby said shaking his head.

"Yeah...sorry, but it's probably true."

Harry had learned some about the famous Liberty Island Incident since coming here, and he could understand why Rogue was upset. Magneto had nearly killed her, and the white streaks of hair that framed her face showed just how close he had come. It was hard to see the pain that event must have caused her, the Rogue Harry knew was such a strong girl. But you could see it now.

"Harry, you disappeared," Pyro commented, he seemed to be trying to make up for his previous tactlessness by providing a distraction.

"Yeah," Harry said, "I sort of— "

"Joined up with the X-men while they raided some English prison," Bobby answered seeming overly glib "We heard. The rumors are all over...but that seemed the most likely. Although the one where you and Wolverine challenged Cyclops to a motorcycle race was fun too. " Bobby said with a grin.

"Yeah," Harry collapsed on his own bed. "Like that would be a contest?" He liked this about them, Harry thought. Back home his adventures seemed to spark concern. Maybe life in this world was more reckless, because Harry fit in just fine.

"Take us along next time," Rogue said with some attitude, "It would have made a much better evening than sitting around watching TV."

"Commando Harry," Pyro said sarcastically. "Shit, we've got to get you a better name. I mean, _Harry_?"

"And Pyro is kick ass," Harry said sarcastically.

"Harry is the name of some bookish librarian guy, it just doesn't work with this savior of the world crap you like to pull," Pyro explained, ignoring the eye rolls that were sent in his direction.

"You okay though?" Bobby asked. "Are you going to get in trouble over it?"

Harry shrugged, "Fine. What are they going to do?"

Bobby seemed to silently speculate exactly what they could do for punishment, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

"What about Rambo, you know something tough," Pyro suggested.

Harry lifted his head enough to give Pyro an incredulous expression.

"Yeah," Pyro agreed, "Not my best work."

Harry's eyes drifted closed and the noise from the radio seemed to lull him even though the sort of music that Pyro listened to wasn't exactly peaceful.

"Is he asleep?" Harry heard Pyro ask.

"Yep, looks wiped," Bobby sounded almost sympathetic.

"You know he's got a point, he's tricky to make a good nickname for."

-

The next morning Harry felt uncomfortable. That probably had something to do with the fact that he'd fallen asleep in his clothes and hadn't bothered to lie in his bed properly. Being someone who knew what a privilege having a bed could be, Harry chided himself for wasting a chance at a good night's sleep.

He blinked still feeling tired, but his bed was closest to the window and the—Harry glanced at the clock— _mid afternoon_ sunlight seemed a bit bright. Harry stretched and took a good whiff of his clothes, fragrant as only battle and a good game of Quidditch could make them. He hastily took a shower in the bathroom down the hall and changed into some of the clothes that Jean had purchased for him.

Bobby and Pyro seemed unconcerned with the hour and were still sleeping.

Harry might have been likewise, except he had far too many things to do. And one was pressing.

Apparition within buildings was a very lazy habit, one that Harry usually tried to avoid but it was vitally important that he get some answers from Sirius this morning. And preferably with no one the wiser.

The medical area was still slightly crowded, but its inhabitants were in a deep sleep, apparently whatever drugs they had been given hadn't been removed yet. Harry found Sirius lying somewhat isolated by a curtain. Being a person who spent time in hospital rooms, Harry found the curtain troubling. They only bothered putting up the curtain when the diagnosis was unpleasant.

Harry approached his godfather quietly. He stared at Sirius's face for what seemed like a long while, almost as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. But finally he got up the courage to poke the man's shoulder with his index finger.

"Sirius?" he whispered, "Hey, can you hear me?" He hoped that Sirius was only sleeping now, it had been frightening the other night when he wouldn't wake.

"Mmmhmmm," Sirius moaned.

"Sirius," Harry called louder.

Sirius's eyes opened with a snap and he looked around in shock.

Harry let out a sight of relief.

"Harry?" Sirius said, he seemed confused but then his face broke into a smile. "I was worried it was a dream."

Harry reached out and took Sirius's hand, he nodded his head knowing the feeling.

"Sirius...is it really _you_." Harry wanted to know, the man looked like his Sirius, he even talked like his Sirius.

"It's me, is it you?" Sirius reached out a hand and patted Harry's head. He lifted the fringe of dark hair and seemed to stare at Harry's scar with real joy. "It has to be you!"

"Sirius what happened?" Harry needed to know. "How long have you been here?"

"Here?" Sirius questioned. "We're home, didn't I make it home..." He trailed off seeming confused.

Harry became nervous. "Sirius...this isn't out home world, this one is _pretty_ different."

"Well, I've been gone for a couple years, thought the place might have changed some." Sirius winked.

A prank! Harry conjured a chair and settled down in it weakly, "Now isn't the time, Padfoot old boy," Harry said earnestly.

"Harry you and I are trapped in some world with a bunch of mutants, I'd say it's the perfect time for pranks. And I'm not old."

Harry shook his head, it was good to see him being like this, like the old Sirius.

"What I want to know is how you ended up in another world. You didn't run in after me, after I fell in," Sirius gripped Harry's hand and something like dread flashed across his face as he stared into Harry's green eyes.

"No," Harry said awkwardly. "Remus pulled me back."

"Good old wolf," Sirius said, he leaned back on his pillows and looked up at the ceiling. "Then how'd you get here pup?"

Pup? Harry cringed, the old dog was getting batty. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said with shrug.

"You're going to have to spell that out a little better," Sirius said. He managed to prop himself up on the pillows behind him so that he could meet Harry's eyes easier.

Harry scratched the back of his head, "Things went bad after that, you know, after you fell," Harry said, "Dumbledore got all these tutors for me, I trained a lot. But it wasn't really enough, I got captured at the end of sixth year..."

Sirius was shaking head, "I should have been there," he ground out through clenched teeth. "It was my job to look after you, Prongs gave me that job."

"It wasn't that bad," Harry lied, "I wasn't there long...and I stopped Voldemort, for good this time."

Sirius twitched and took a deep breath, "You did it? You finished that prophecy."

"Tore the bastard to bits," Harry said, he didn't like to think back to that time. The powerful magic, fueled by desperation, felt like it would tear him in two.

"Harry it shouldn't have been you," Sirius said shaking his head. "You shouldn't have had to do that...but if you stopped him why are you here? Why would you give that up?"

"Give up what?" Harry wanted to know. "I stopped having friends, I stopped everything for that stupid prophecy." It felt good to explain it to someone who could understand. "And when I won, I just felt...useless, I didn't want to be famous. It was bad enough before. When Tonks said something about the veil being a gateway— that you weren't dead— I figured what could I lose?"

Sirius shook his head, "_What could I lose _he says, Merlin, well I guess it's nice to see you haven't changed much. Always leaping into the next big disaster, I always figured you'd be the death of me."

"I was," Harry said weakly.

Sirius's gray eyes grew flinty and Harry prepared himself for some cheering up, "You can stop any of that," Sirius said with a fierce expression. "No acting like it's your fault, none of the poor little hero bit, I went because I had to go. Just like you'd have gone for me."

Sirius shook his head looking at Harry in some amusement.

"Guess it shows," he said with a weak chuckle. "If you didn't look so much like James I'm certain people would be questioning Lily's virtue, wondering if you weren't sired by another Marauder. James never quite managed all the trouble we have."

Harry nodded, he tried to pretend that Sirius words hadn't exorcized some an old demon. But even he had to admit, hearing Sirius say it was loads better.

Sirius pulled himself up and tucked Harry into an awkward hug. Harry felt strange being in such a fatherly embrace, but Sirius seemed to need to do something and so Harry sat still while Sirius held him.

"Too grown-up for hugs now eh?" Sirius said with a smile, "No one is looking?"

Harry shrugged, "Guess so," he nodded and let situation grow familiar.

"What about you? What happened after you feel in the veil...did you land here...how is that possible?" Harry watched as Sirius lied back down, he seemed tired again and Harry couldn't help but worry.

"I only got here only a couple weeks ago, landed in some Underground and was arrested. Pretty swift Justice system they got here. In a day I'd been tried and convicted."

Harry recalled his own speedy trial, "Just a few weeks ago?" Harry said with a shake of his head, that didn't make any sense.

"I've been trying to get back," Sirius explained. "I've spent the last year, more now I guess, hopping through. Once I get somewhere new, I make certain I'm not home...then back in."

Harry blinked, "Why?" It didn't make any sense.

"I had to get back to you, didn't I now? I didn't want to leave you alone to fight Voldemort...but then I guess you didn't need me after all." Sirius seemed a bit sheepish.

Harry stared blankly...why would Sirius do that for him? "How many?"

Sirius grew thoughtful, "A lot, I don't remember how many exactly. See each one is different, and some a pretty awful. Some are close, and others are really different. Like this place. What is a mutant exactly?"

Harry laughed, "Sort of interesting really. They don't seem to have the magical world here, instead they have these DNA mutations, where people get one magical skill. Except powerful, better than the magical counterpart, more control I guess you could say, and no need for wands."

"That's just odd," Sirius declared.

"We're the world hopping wizards in this scenario," Harry reminded him.

Sirius looked thoughtful, "Good point."

"At the station, how did they know you were a mutant...did you use magic or something."

"Yeah...magic." Sirius trailed off. "Been a little tricky lately. I lost my wand a few worlds back, it was this crazy world populated by these giant fire monsters and molten lava. Not my favorite stop in the multi-verse."

"Then how?"

"I'm not completely hopeless," Sirius said with a flash of his bravado, "There are some skills that don't need wands." Sirius smiled and then suddenly in his place a large black dog, still looking faintly like a Grim, grinned sloppily.

"Padfoot," Harry said with some fondness. He patted the dog's head and Sirius seemed to enjoy when Harry scratched his ears.

"So someone saw you transform?"

Sirius changed back swiftly, "These bobbies started chasing me so I did what came natural I guess, I'm much faster on four legs. Of course the next thing I know I'm stung by something and wake up being arraigned for breaking the new Mutant Act. It's a strange world this one."

Harry nodded, "But the Mutants aren't bad people, they even took me in."

"Even though you aren't one of them?" Sirius wanted to know.

Harry couldn't help but look a bit embarrassed, "Yeah, well they don't really know about that, they see the magic and think I'm a mutant. I tried to tell them about magic but...I don't think they believe in it."

Sirius snorted at the irony that was in there somewhere.

"You still have your wand?" Sirius looked pleased by this.

"Er...Voldemort snapped it when he captured me."

Sirius looked very confused, "If he...how did you..." He looked curiously at the chair he had just seen Harry conjure, that was sixth year Charms work not a simple levitation charm.

"You know that power the dark lord knows not. Dumbledore always said it was love...which you have to admit..."

"Absolute bollocks?" Sirius added.

"Something like that, I guess I just got pissed off enough...the magic sort of came rushing through my hands."

Sirius gazed at Harry's hands, his face seeming fascinated, "Have to admit, I've never heard of that. Moony would be better at figuring it out..." Sirius laughed suddenly and it surprised Harry, "Not like it matters. You and me are mutants now, are we?"

Harry nodded, "For the time, I thought it would be easier...although I'm not certain how long that will last. There is this professor here who can read minds. Occlumency seems to keep him out..."

"Well he won't hear about it from me," Sirius said.

"You know Occlumency?" Harry asked.

Sirius looked at him with some surprise, he ruffled Harry's hair playfully, "Of course I do, Snivellous is a dirty little mind picker, you think I'd know that and let him near my wonderful brain."

"Would make pranks difficult," Harry said with a smile.

Sirius laughed, "Wouldn't want to ruin my only form of entertainment."

The pair grew silent for a moment and Harry couldn't help but watch Sirius curiously, "So...all those worlds. You must have found one of them that was good. Maybe where my dad was alive?"

Sirius looked uncomfortable. "There was one," he said, but it seemed like he wanted to forget it.

Harry leaned closer, "What was it like?"

Sirius looked thoughtful, "It was the third world I'd gone to, and it was...well it was pretty perfect." But then he froze and looked at Harry sharply, "But seriously flawed in other ways."

Harry shook his head at the swift change in opinion.

The silence was awkward. "See it was a world where there had never been a Voldemort. It was like he'd never been born...and there were still some old bigots but no one took them seriously. The Minster of Magic was a muggleborn of all things and--- your dad he was a auror, he said they hadn't seen a murder in twenty years. Can you imagine that? And James and Lily were alive, and Moony was professor at the school, had been for years, just like he always should have been. And Peter, he sold Potion supplies of all things."

Sirius smiled faintly as he recalled a world that seemed so like their own and yet so different. It was idyllic really, and Harry could almost picture it too. His dad an auror, and what did his mother do? Had they grown middle-aged together, like they always should have? A life without war, without sacrifice...Harry didn't think he knew how to live such a life.

"Were you there too?" Harry asked.

Sirus laughed, "I was a girl!? Can you believe that, and I'll have you know I was hot." He cupped his hands to his chest and made a gesture that any man could interrupt, "They were spectacular, I'm telling you. And Lily had been my best friend at Hogwarts."

Harry honestly couldn't picture a female Sirius, it was too bizarre.

"James and I had even dated a bit in school...which was rather creepy actually."

Harry laughed and Sirius seemed to enjoy the sound, joining in the mirth with an expression what reminded Harry of the healthy Sirius in his parent's wedding picture.

Harry shook his head, "It sounds perfect...why didn't...why didn't you stay there. You could have made a new life, been friends with my dad...I guess it would have been a little weird with the girl you but ...how could you just leave that behind?"

Harry shook his head, when he'd decided to jump into the veil he hadn't even hoped to find a world that perfect. If he'd had such a chance he certainly wouldn't have given it up.

"It had its flaws too," Sirius said, his cheer dropping.

"What?" Harry wanted to know.

"Just..." Sirius waved his hand as if to push the question away.

"What was it missing?" Harry wanted to know.

Sirius sighed, "Well...it didn't have _you_."

Harry just stared for a moment. "I wasn't there."

"It was like you hadn't been born. James and Lily had kids, and they were good kids and all..." Sirius looked away.

"So, Voldemort wasn't born...and I wasn't born." Harry nodded. He tried not to take it personally, but Fate was more of a bitch than he had always thought. The prophecy tied them together, even a world away.

"Why didn't you stay?" Harry asked again.

"I told you, it had its flaws." Sirius nodded, "And really very dull after awhile."

Harry nodded, he put on a smile, "So you kept jumping, see a lot?"

"I saw _a lot_," Sirius agreed. Harry could tell he was trying not to yawn.

"You'll have to tell me sometime, as well as how to see the veil. I've looked for it here and the thing seems to be invisible."

Sirius yawned loudly now, "It just needs magic to solidify it, some unspeakable somewhere told me it's like charging it. I was feeding it raw magic through my wand to sort of give it a jolt, but then I lost my wand."

"What did you do then?" Harry asked curiously.

"Blood," Sirius said, "Our blood is full of magic."

Harry once again eyed the marks on Sirius's wrists.

Sirius caught the gesture, "Don't think I've become some pansy suicide case," he cursed looking at Harry fiercely, "I just needed some blood."

The silence was heavy for a moment.

"You sound like some sort of vampire," Harry finally said, "_I needed some blood_, really that was all you could think of?"

"Not all of us have mastered wandless magic," Sirius criticized loftily. "Not that I won't mind giving up the razors."

"You still want to go?" Harry asked, wondering how he felt about that. True, he himself had been looking for a way out but now that Sirius was here...

Sirius looked amused, "I've been held prisoner for over a week by the British government and it looks like a pretty nasty war is brewing..._yeah_ I'm thinking we should go."

Well at least Sirius's sarcasm seemed to be working well.

"You're probably right," Harry said, "But you're not in any condition to be going anywhere. You're a shade above invalid at the moment."

"Hey, all I need is some sleep, and then on to the worlds that wait." This encouraging statement fell a little flat considering Sirius collapsed onto his pillow looking exhausted.

"Yeah," Harry said. He rose to his feet and the chair he'd created disappeared with a thought.

"Night kiddo," Sirius said, another yawn breaking apart his words.

"Night," Harry said, not mentioning it was still day.

Harry stood for a moment in the dimmed light as he listened to the many people sleeping around him. Sirius had quickly given into the call of sleep and the others looked almost dead, their bodies lying still while whatever drugs they had been given worked their way through their bodies.

Worlds that wait? It sounded so easy to Sirius. And that was how Harry felt too.

He was almost certain.

-

-

A/N: I suppose in an attempt to dissuade people that I am 'evil'...as so many of my reviewers were keen to say last chapter, I tried my best to get this chapter out to you quickly. I hope that it answered some of your questions. Although I'd also be lying if I said that the enthusiastic response to the previous chapter hadn't encouraged me to keep writing. And I had two days off. I hope to update soon, but once again I'm afraid I can't make guarantees.

This was published without Beta and any of you error checkers out there, if you provide detailed reviews of any glaring errors, I'd be glad to fix them, with many thanks.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Variations on Complication.

-

-

Harry couldn't help but continue to feel concerned for Sirius as he left the medical room. Despite how nice it had been to speak to the man again, indeed to speak to anyone who could understand this crazy world-jumping insanity. Harry stepped out in to the hallway and rubbed his forehead tiredly. For a brief moment he allowed himself to feel worried about the situation. It was one he couldn't control.

And what of leaving? Was this world a lost cause, filled with hate and war? Maybe he should just do as Sirius had done. If they tried maybe they could find the peaceful world Sirius mentioned, or one like it.

But Harry hadn't expected to see anyone in the hallway; his thoughts left him quickly when his emerald eyes met a pair of blank silver.

"Justin," Harry said, anxiety over what the former Hufflepuff may have heard consumed him for a moment. But Justin wasn't staring at him as if he'd grown another head, so he forced himself to relax.

"X-ray," Justin reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," he said lamely.

"I 'saw' you up here, thought maybe you'd be willing to help with a jailbreak of another sort?"

Harry grinned, Justin seemed to be acting normal. Harry had slightly worried that his former friend might not be willing to trust him given the mystery. Harry wouldn't have blamed him, but maybe this Justin wasn't that different, after all he seemed willing to trust.

"Oh yeah," Harry said, still smiling slightly, "What did you have in mind?"

"They have a bunch of us 'recovering' in some sort of bunker area. Mind, it's not as bad as the Mutant Containment cells, but, well…" Justin shrugged, "It's still underground. And trust me, I don't care how nice it is I can still tell when we're underground."

Harry nodded, "I think I can lead the way, but what about the others…" Harry trailed of, he had no idea how the British mutant community worked.

"There is a big council meeting, they're deciding what is going to be done. A lot of arguing, and _apparently_ they aren't interested in what we 'children' have to say."

Justin's ire was familiar to Harry and he shared the boy's glower for a moment. "Sounds like a plan. How'd you like some sunlight?"

Justin nodded, "We should call you Jailbreak, you always seem to be busting us out of one prison or another."

Harry rolled his eyes, what was it with these people and assigning him a nickname?

Not all the mutant children were willing to risk another escape so soon, but Justin soon emerged with about ten kids who looked very excited to be leaving. Midnight was among them and Harry recognized Jenny, the young girl who hadn't wanted a scar, from the previous evening. She quickly recognized him too.

"Harry," she shouted, running forward and grabbing his hand. She gripped tightly like some sort of monkey and bounced with excitement.

Justin rolled his eyes and put a finger to his lips, "Shhh," he directed, looking to a door where some loud muttering was heard.

"Sorry!" she said, her voice lowering to a hush. "It's just Harry rescued us again!"

"I did some rescuing too," Justin argued good naturedly.

"But Harry is the awesome one," Jenny decided.

Justin rolled his eyes, "What do you want to bet that when Jenny gets her powers it will have something to do with being irrepressibly cheerful."

The other chuckled but Jenny perked up at the idea.

"That would be so cool, like maybe I could control people's emotions, or make plant's grow like Mia, or ooohhhhh I know maybe I'll be able to see the future…"

"What does seeing the future have to do with being cheerful?" said one boy, who while younger than Harry, looked like he could easily bench press a fully-grown tree.

"Or maybe I could fly, that would be great too!" Jenny continued her litany of possible powers not seeming to care what the others said.

"Maybe you'll have the power of shutting up," a dark haired girl offered.

Justin laughed, "That's a power she'll never have."

"Maybe I'll be like Harry," Jenny mentioned next. "He can do lots of stuff, you must be really powerful eh Harry?"

"Err," Harry stood hesitantly at the opening to the elevator. "Not really," he evaded.

"I don't think many people are like Harry," Justin explained to the younger girl as she pouted.

"Yeah, what is your mutation?" a girl with reddish skin asked.

Harry tried not to be distracted by her odd coloring, her skin was the same color as brick and her eyes glowed like rubies, she titled her head at him in an expectant manner.

"Oh well..." Harry wondered what he was telling people these days. "It's a little complicated," Harry said with a shrug.

"Still, you have to admit it's pretty cool, don't you think Azza," Jenny asked the red-skinned girl.

Azza nodded, she looked thoughtful. "You aren't from the Haven, and Justin says you aren't a Rat? Where have you been? I thought Telltale knew everyone."

"No one can know everyone," Harry pointed out.

Midnight exchanged a glance with Justin, "Yeah, I guess."

"Maybe he's a Metos!" Jenny said looking excited.

"That's utter shite and everyone knows it," the fit boy replied, looking down at Jenny with a roll of his eyes.

Jenny frowned and stomped her foot, "No! They're there; even Telltale said we shouldn't just _not_ believe because no one has seen them."

The athletic boy rolled his eyes again, "He only told you that so that you wouldn't cry like a little girl. The only Mutants in London now are living in the sewers."

Justin sent the boy a glare, "Don't listen to him Jen, you never know right?"

Jen nodded, "So are you?"

"Am I what?" Harry asked having no clue what they were talking about.

Justin sent him a commiserating glance as Jen's expectant expression didn't leave her face.

"Metos are sort of a legend really. A lot of mutants ditched London about ten years ago when the anti- mutant vibe hit an all time high. The Rats stayed of course and a few of the closeted home kids, but people always talked about the Metos. Really powerful mutants who stayed in the city and controlled things from the outside."

Harry grew thoughtful, "Sorry," he apologized to Jen with a shrug. "Afraid not, I was born in Surrey...just happened to get caught around London."

Jenny seemed to be fighting disappointment, and won with a vengeance her bright smile seeming to stand in sharp contrast, "It's okay, your mutation is still really cool."

They finally made it to the elevator and Harry fiddled with the buttons. The others seemed to perk up at the thought of finally leaving subterraneous dwellings, Justin in particular was looking up through the elevator shaft with a light smile on his face. The mood lightened even more when the elevator door opened and the mansion came into view. Harry himself remembered how nice it had been to be in a home again, even such a chaotic one as Mutant High but, then again, perhaps the general disorder improved the setting.

"Harry, there you are," a gloved hand hit Harry's shoulder, some surprise in Rogue voice.

"Hey," Harry said, he glanced back at the mutants who stood behind them.

"Rogue these are some of...these are my friends," He simplified. "Jus— X-ray, Midnight, Jenny..." he trailed off not entirely certain about the other names.

"Close friends I see, you sure like bein' a mystery." Rogue said sarcastically. She turned and smiled, particularly at some of the younger kids, "Well, y'all are welcome to Mutant High. I'm sure you'll have a great time." She turned back to Harry, "I was just goin to go look for your other roommates, any idea where they'd be?"

Harry shook his head, "Last time I saw them they were sleeping."

Rogue rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Well, I guess you're more fun than them. Have you showed them the Rec Room."

"I think the outside world might be a little better," Harry said turning to the others who nodded.

"Oh yeah," Rogue fell into step beside them as Harry continued his quest to find the front door. "I heard about the prison thing. That must have been lousy."

Midnight smiled, Harry noticed that her pitch black skin didn't even give Rogue pause. Indeed, none of the mutants sparked her curiosity. Harry smiled absently thinking that there were few places in this world, or any other for that matter, quite like Mutant High.

Once they were outside the mood of the group definitely became happy. The sun was shining, the air was fresh. After so long without seeing the sun, it seemed that Mother Nature had decided to give them a beautiful day. A game of Frisbee seemed to be the main activity, three boys were tossing the flying disc while four girls sat on a blanket under some trees.

"Max, you got room for more?" Rogue asked.

Max, a boy with spiked yellow hair turned and smirked. "Sure, but no powers," his gold eyes flickered unnaturally bright for a moment.

Rogue shrugged, "Fine with me," she held up her gloved hands.

"But it's sooo slow," one of the three players, a boy with rich tan skin and black hair complained.

Rogue took her place in the group and Harry, Midnight and Justin did as well. The other British mutants seemed to find distractions elsewhere, either joining the girls who were watching, or drifting toward the basketball game that was in progress on the small court.

"Well aren't you a breath of fresh air," Max said, sidling up beside Midnight and giving her a wink.

Harry had to admit, even with the pitch black skin, Midnight was oddly beautiful.

She rolled her eyes and gave Justin an annoyed expression.

"So what can you do?" Max asked.

"See in the dark," she answered. "And...I don't know when it's dark out stuff is just easier."

One of the boys whispered something to the other and they snickered.

"Gives doing it in the dark a new angle," Harry heard one of the them whisper back faintly.

Rogue hit one of them in the head with the Frisbee.

Max cocked his head, "Well that is different. I can control electricity."

Harry hadn't known that and found himself wondering just how that worked.

The game was, as the other mutants had commented, rather slow. Harry managed to 'find' two more Frisbees to make it more interesting and the game devolved more when Flash (or so Harry learned his name to be, and it was something of a joke…although Harry didn't get it.) couldn't contain himself anymore and it quickly became a game of keep away as everyone tried to stop Flash from claiming all the Frisbees. But after an hour out in the sun Rogue grew impatient and kept glancing back toward the mansion.

"Looking for someone?" Harry asked her.

Rogue bit her lip and looked like she'd been caught in a lie. "I guess I wanted to check the news, you know, see if there had been any more on Magneto."

Harry nodded, understanding completely.

"What do you say we take a peek at the TV in the Rec Room, those 24 hour news channels are probably still buzzing with whatever is happening."

"You think you can, aren't you playing tour guide or something?" Rogue glanced at the British mutants who had followed Harry out.

But Harry managed to locate them as well, and he was pleased but not surprised to see so many of them being folded into normal Saturday life at Mutant high. Jenny and her friend Azza had drifted to the grouping of girls who were nestled around a tree. One girl with blue hair was braiding Jenny's hair while the other girls seemed to be comparing notes on the boys playing basketball. Three of the boys, including the one that looked like a young body-builder, were gathered in an open field and seemed to be initiating a game of football/soccer with a few of the American teens to held the same interest.

"I think they're fine," Harry decided. "Now, let's go and see what sort of madman is after us next."

Rogue tilted her head and looked at him quizzically before a slow smile stretched across her face.

"Alright then," she agreed.

The pair were leaving the grounds when the pounding of some footsteps caught up with them. Harry turned and noticed Justin and Midnight had decided to follow.

"Sesh, running is sort of hard after being in a box for so long," Justin commented.

Harry nodded, "At least they feed you," he commented.

Justin laughed thinking it a joke, "Yeah I guess, although what a terrible menu, eh?"

Harry faintly recalled how pleased he had been with the government's meal program.

"I suppose it depends on what you're used to," he replied.

"So where we headed," Justin asked.

"Rec Room," Rogue answered, "They've got TVs and games."

"We're gonna check the news," Harry explained.

"Oh, wondering if the escape made it to the public?" Justin asked, but he shook his head, "No way, massive cover-up, no such thing a free press anymore."

"Not that escape," Harry said, "Have you all heard of the Liberty Island Incident?" Harry asked.

They looked at him like he was stupid.

"Okay, so I guess you have."

"With all the world leaders there, who hasn't heard about it?" Midnight seemed faintly amused.

"Sounded like a good idea from my perspective," Justin commented.

Harry could understand that, but he shot Rogue a concerned glance. She had bit her lip firmly and seemed to be trying to stop herself from saying anything.

"Yeah, well," Harry's attention shifted between Justin and Rogue, "It was a little less nice from Rogue's point of view. Magneto was going to use her to power he machine, even though it would kill her."

Justin looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't know the mechanics of it all…"

Midnight crossed to Rogue, "Ignore his amazing ability to stick his foot in his mouth, we all do."

"Hey," Justin complained crossly.

"It's okay," Rogue said, nodding her head, "I can understand, ya'll weren't sitting in prison for the fun of it." It probably hurt a bit to admit that Magneto's plan might have been proactive to prevent suffering, that it wasn't pure evil.

Harry hadn't been tortured by a bad guy with good motives, Voldemort easily represented the end of the evil spectrum. Magneto, on the other hand, was painted in shades of gray, that much Harry had determined and he didn't even know that much about the man and his influence in this world. But Harry didn't envy Rogue her philosophical dilemma.

Harry nudged her shoulder and offered her a crooked smile, something she must have grown to appreciate because the wrinkles between her brows melted away.

"Well, Magneto escaped too," Harry explained. "We want to keep up to date. Current Events are very important."

Justin didn't seem to know if he could take Harry seriously or not.

The Rec Room was by far on the most crowded places to be on a Sunday. While some of the students were outside enjoying the beautiful day, and a few others were in their dorm rooms or the library, the rest of the teenagers had crowded into the only other room that provided some enjoyable distractions.

One of the TVs had been taken over by video games but the second was still unused and Rogue quickly swooped down to set the channel on one of the news channels that was still flashing information on Magneto, as well as a mine collapse in Pennsylvania.

"Hey, Harry," Pyro shouted, "You're just in time to see me destroy Icebox once again."

Harry chuckled when he caught sight of his roommates, both had taken control of the foosball table and their fierce rivalry was already becoming apparent.

"Oh no," Midnight moaned.

Harry turned to see an honest expression of loathing on her face as she took in the foosball table. It contrasted drastically with the hungry desire on X-ray's face.

"Awesome," he said, the excitement heavy in his voice, "I play winner."

"I hoped we'd never see another table football. He's obsessed," Midnight complained.

Justin had moved to stand between Harry's roommates and he stared at the game with a strict sort of focus that reminded Harry vaguely of his attitude while escaping the governmental facility that had housed them.

"Who are you?" Pyro asked with his usual eloquence.

"X-ray," Justin replied not taking his eyes off the table.

"Neat," Pyro replied, "Like Mr. X-ray specs, huh?"

"Without the specs," X-ray lifted up the curly bangs that usually hung in front of his eyes and flashed his silvery gaze.

Pyro took his eyes off the game and stared for a moment, "Well that's handy, I'm Pyro."

The two shared an expression, "Nice and obvious," X-ray commented.

Bobby had decided to use this distraction to score a goal and Pyro cursed loudly and the attention shifted back to the game. Harry watched them in amusement, he'd never played the game but Justin seemed to be an expert. He quickly took over as referee and Midnight rolled her eyes. The black skinned girl moved to join Rogue on the sofa.

"And the crowd goes wild," Pyro cheered, he sneered in Bobby's direction. "That's what you get for cheap tricks."

However, as Harry watched, he observed his share of 'cheap tricks' on either side as both Pryo and Iceman battled for the top. Neither was opposed to offering any sort of distraction and as the end neared Harry noted that from time to time the metal rods that controlled the players turned icy cold or searing hot.

Harry was starting to understand why the plastic men playing seemed to have accumulated a fair amount of damage over time, including one fellow whose head had melted onto his shoulder.

But Harry's attention faded easily. It was difficult to get excited over such a thing, even though he wanted to.

Perhaps that was why he was able to easily catch Jean's eye as she scanned the room. When she spotted him, she jerked her head in a manner that implied she needed to speak with him. Noticing Pyro was in about to win, and the clamor that created, Harry easily slipped away.

Jean stood silently in the hallway, not seeming to mind the loud chaos that was underway inside. Indeed, she looked to have utterly forgotten her previous ire concerning him.

"Professor?" Harry said, opting for a cheery grin. He wasn't certain what she might want from him.

Jean blinked at the title before shaking her head, "I promised you I'd let you know when your godfather awoke," she explained, obviously noting his confusion.

"Sirius is awake," Harry said. He supposed his godfather hadn't mentioned this afternoon's visit.

"He was," Jean clarified. She pressed her lips together and batted at a stray lock of hair that was hanging stubbornly out of the clips she wore. "We discussed some things and he was still very tired, however I think," and here she seemed to be debating something, "I think you should be informed of the situation."

Harry didn't like how this was going.

Jean looked around the hallway, "Let's discuss this in my office."

Never a good sign, Harry considered even as he nodded his head in agreement.

Jean's office, as it was, could easily have been mistaken for a medical supply room. She seemed to have a bit of everything stored here with a desk and small couch shoved into a corner. Harry supposed she wasn't the type of doctor who needed an office much. The couch, while small and covered with a hideous floral print, was also remarkably comfortable. Harry settled himself on it while Jean took a seat next to him.

She seemed to steel herself for a serious conversation.

"So, what is it?" Harry asked, being right to the point.

"Your godfather, he's very sick Harry." She had put on her patronizing voice and Harry glared. She seemed to take the hint and her expression turned a tad flinty. " Do you know anything about radiation?"

"From bombs?" Harry hadn't been to muggle school in some time, but he recalled the horror of atomic bombs well enough. Their school had even still had an air-raid shelter, somewhere in the basement or so the rumors had said.

"Different than that," Jean explained. "Your godfather has been exposed to ionizing radiation."

"That doesn't sound good."

Jean didn't comment on that, "I'm not certain the exact nature of it, but it seems that the British government has been conducting some test on him. Exposing him to burst of radiation over a period of several months.

She paused and focused on him, "How long has it been since you've seen him?"

Harry hesitated, he looked down at his lap, "A little over a year now I guess."

"Well, that might explain…" Jean trailed off and the silence dragged for a moment as she seemed reluctant to press him for more information. "When a person is exposed to a short burst of radiation in high doses, like from an atomic bomb, often times what we see is a verity of symptoms which are called 'radiation sickness'.

"In some cases these same symptoms can show up with this kind of long term exposure to smaller doses, this is what has happened to your godfather. Not a blast of radiation but rather small level of exposure over a range of time."

Harry felt numb, which was probably the only thing allowing him to keep a calm face.

"The fatigue, the slight fever, his difficulty holding down food. He's also showing signs of slower than average healing. And based on the time table he has given me, I'd believe he has what they call a moderate case."

"So he'll get better," Harry stated.

Jean paused, "He has a good chance to. But it's going to take some time Harry. Not only is he having these issues, but his Blood pressure is very low, probably from lack of blood. And his weight is not something I'm happy with either. He's obviously been at a point of physical exhaustion for some time. While not fatal these additional problems are slowing his recovery."

Harry nodded. "Maybe I can help, or…" he trailed off not knowing exactly what he should do. He could heal any wounds Sirius had but things like blood loss needed blood replenishing potions, and unless there was some dragons blood around he had no chance of making it. (Then again maybe that fellow Torch might submit to being a donor.)

"We'll do everything we can for him," Jean stated.

"Thank you," Harry said. He looked down at the couch. He was glad he'd curbed his impulse to simply leave with Sirius. He would have had no way to helping his godfather. What his godfather needed right now were doctors and medicine. And maybe just some sleep.

"Harry, I do want to prepare you for the possibility that there might be some long term damage as well." Jean reached out and gently touched his forearm, her eyes were soft and Harry was almost glad for her patronizing pity.

"What?" he asked, not knowing what else could be wrong.

"With this sort of exposure we do have to accept the possibility of cancer."

"Cancer?" Harry blinked. Could wizards even get cancer?

Jean nodded, "We'll be running some tests, so don't worry yet. And great strides have been made in the medical community, so I think it would be best to be optimistic for the moment."

Harry nodded. Optimistic? That was going to take some work.

Jean smiled at his softly and she patted his hand in a cheering manner.

"So, you're not mad about me tagging along anymore?" Harry asked, thinking this was a good a time to bring up his misdeeds when the good doctor's sympathy was on his side. It was a trick he'd picked up from the Weasley twins.

Jean rolled her eyes and bit her tongue as her previous temper flared for a moment.

"Given the circumstances," she said begrudgingly, "I suppose your assistance saved many lives and," she paused for a moment, acting as if she couldn't believe she was saying this, "As Logan says, perhaps you're more capable than we would like to believe."

Harry chuckled, "Hmm, I suppose I can take care of myself."

"This wasn't the world we were working toward," Jean sad sadly. "I don't like to see this…" she shook her head and seemed reluctant to continue.

"How are the others?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Most of them will be fine." She said with a nod, she shot a glance in his direction, "It seems that several of them miraculously healed quite quickly."

Harry shrugged, "Well that was nice, you must be a good doctor."

Jean didn't buy his attitude for a moment.

"What about that leader guy, Telltale?" Harry asked.

Jean looked uncomfortable again and Harry had the distinct impression that she wasn't comfortable sharing anymore patient information than she already had.

"You should get back to your friends," she dismissed. "Class again for Monday, how are you coming on that Science booklet."

Harry cringed recalling the book of science homework she had given him. It was probably something he should have seen in year nine, or maybe even later based on how much this society seemed to prize scientific achievement. Sometimes Harry wasn't certain if his confusion stemmed from all his years in a magical school or whether his home world wasn't familiar with the concept either.

"Yeah, sounds like fun," he said cringing.

Jean seemed to be stifling a smile, Harry knew she probably got some thrill out of piling on his assignments considering it looked as though the Professor had chosen to forgo any specific disciplinary action.

Harry wasn't certain how he felt about having received no word from the Headmaster--- or principal as he was called here. The Professor was still quite the mystery to Harry's mind. He seemed pleasant enough, but Harry still felt nervous around the man. He hoped his confrontations with the telepathic hadn't left him predisposed to dislike everyone with the ability.

It was an odd prejudice to have.

"Are you alright Harry?" Jean asked breaking him out of his thoughts.

He hadn't quite realized that this mental preoccupation had left him standing silently, and Jean's warm eyes seemed to be watching him in a gentle manner that somehow felt uncomfortable.

"I'm fine," he said, the crooked smile that his friends knew to be sign of lying crossed his face.

"Well, try to be a normal teenager for a little while. I think you deserve it."

Jean's words were kind, but ridiculous. Harry nodded all the same.

"Yeah, have to get back to the foosball game," the genial tone of his voice put the doctor at ease.

Harry exited Jean's office, his path back to the elevator lead him past the medical room that was currently housing Sirius. He couldn't avoid the temptation to peek inside and get a glimpse of his godfather. The room had been divided into a few small curtained off areas, the dozen people who had been sleeping must have awoken, or been moved to another room. Harry supposed that left the difficult cases to be cordoned off on their own.

Sirius looked weary even in sleep Harry decided, and he didn't have the will or need to try waking him again.

He would admit to being afraid of what Jean had told him. It would be stupid to deny that, but he wasn't going to be cowed by that fear. He simple had to accept the risk.

But there was one thing that Jean couldn't have known. And that troubled Harry the most. Because he knew, as she couldn't, that Sirius hadn't been the government's prisoner for several months. There was no way that his symptoms were the result of periodic doses of radiation for experimental purposes. No, there was only one thing that Sirius had been doing over and over again for the past year.

Harry had done it once himself.

Everything in this world has a cost, or perhaps, given the situation, he should say 'in this universe'. Every cause an effect.

Harry had learned the effect. Sirius, never one of consider consequences, had discovered it for him.

"Hello Harry, dear," a kind voice broke him out of his thoughts.

He turned, surprised to see the well weathered face of Cancer, Telltale's wife. She looked so normal, like the kind of woman who baked cookies and knitted and waited for her kids to come home from school. She didn't seem to belong in this world of underground shelters and government prisons.

Cancer, the name hadn't meant much before.

"Is your godfather alright?" she asked kindly.

"They don't know," Harry answered, surprised by the uncomfortable quaver his voice had. "He's been exposed to some sort of radiation, he should get better but he might have…" he trailed off looking at her.

"Cancer." She said the word softly and a sad smile was on her face. "Sadly both my parents died of it. I give of a form of energy, not unlike radiation. It doesn't seem to hurt other mutants, actually it tends to have some very positive effects. But on normal human, well, it is dangerous. My son, Milo, he was very sick as a child until we discovered he hadn't inherited his parents' little genetic quirk."

Harry blinked, "Sort of a cruel nickname then," he speculated.

She chuckled warmly, "The children made it up, they are so fond of these little code names. But it's not out of cruelty really, it's a way for me to remember. And some remembering is painful, and some remembering is sweet."

She patted him softly on the shoulder, "You're such a mature young man, perhaps you can understand that."

Harry nodded, he watched her enter the same room that Sirius was in and go behind another curtain. It seemed Telltale wasn't well either, not yet.

It was with some surprise that Harry found himself so quickly back in the Rec Room, but looking around it was almost as if he had never left. Bobby must have decided that losing had given him the opportunity to take a seat next to Rogue. Dedication was surely one of Iceman's more prevalent traits, and Harry rather hoped that Rogue might clue into that. But in her defense, He supposed her mutation made considering dating a little complicated.

Pyro had met a rival who was as competitive as he was. He and Justin and taken over the foosball table much to the amusement of others, and the annoyance of some. Midnight in particular seemed to be standing very reluctantly next to her friend, her eyes seeming to doom the inventor of the game into the fiery pits of hell.

"Hmm," Harry said, peering over her shoulder and making her jolt. "They seem evenly matched."

Midnight rolled her eyes and flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, "Well, he played it enough back home."

"In the Haven," Harry said thoughtfully. "Was it a school like they have here?"

Harry still wasn't entirely clear on how things had worked there.

Midnight seemed happy to talk, "Not really. They had a school of sorts but it was more casual, Cancer ran it. Telltale was talking about making something more permanent then things went pear shaped."

"Telltale headed it then," Harry said thoughtfully.

Midnight looked at him as if he'd said something utterly ridiculous. "Jenny is right," she said sounding amazed at the concept, "Where have you been? Who doesn't know about Telltale?"

"I'm rubbish with current events," he said trying to play off his ignorance casually.

"Okay," she said not seeming to believe a word he said.

"What was it like," Harry asked, his words slightly muffled by a violent curse that seemed to shake the room.

Harry's attention was shifted for a moment while he watched Pyro berate Justin for a maneuver was--- to put it mildly--- corrupt, depraved, and 'f***ing cheating'. Justin answered back with a litany of foul language that Mrs. Weasley would have clobbered him for. Harry was slightly impressed, collecting inventive invectives was a good hobby.

Midnight sighed and answered Harry's question as if the interruption hadn't occurred.

"Well, with things being so bad---"

Harry nodded as if, indeed, he really did know.

"Telltale just sort of organized things so that we wouldn't all have to become Rats. He sort of assigned families I guess. Mutant foster care. That's what it was like for me and Justin, and the community took care of itself. The council runs things, and…" She shrugged, not seeming to be able to explain something that, to her, was common knowledge.

"Sounds like a good thing," Harry stated.

"How don't you know this?" Midnight said, she seemed exasperated. Her dark eyes seemed to focus on him and the searching quality they possessed made Harry feel on edge.

"It was a secret right?" Harry demanded. "It's not like everyone has access to the secret password or anything."

Midnight shook her head, "It doesn't make sense," she said with a shrug. But she seemed willing to let the matter drop.

Harry hoped everyone would be as lenient, because while he might be willing to let the mutants in on his strange mutation there was no way he was sharing the location of the veil and his arrival via it.

Hey, everyone needed an escape route. And Harry was of the mind that the fewer people who knew about it the better. As he had learned, crossing worlds was dangerous and disorienting.

Still he was tired of Midnight's curious eyes. He was glad he didn't 'know' her, had no connection to her as he did Justin. He crossed the room and joined Rogue and Iceman who were still watching the news. Bobby had grown slightly bored and he had settled his head on his elbow and seemed to be watching Rogue and thinking on something. Rogue's attention hadn't wavered, although she seemed less stricken and more focused.

"What's new?" he asked, plopping down on the other side of Rogue and leaning against the cushions.

"They rescued two of the miners," Rogue responded.

"I'm glad," Harry said, he sent Rogue a cautious grin, "You were really worried about them. Guess we can turn off the telly now…"

Rogue raised an eyebrow and flipped a few white strands of hair out of her face.

"On the Magneto front," she said with a shrug, "Nothing new, although there have been sightings in Portland, Chicago and New York City."

"Probably all the hick towns in-between too," Bobby added.

"He's a busy fellow," Harry commented.

"I'm just goin' to stop worrin' about it," Rogue decided vehemently.

"This just in…." A nervous announcer stuttered, her gaze shifting off camera even as she spoke her words.

Rouge's attention was instantly focused on the television belying her previous words.

"While it is not intended for this station to concede to terrorist demands…well, considering the circumstances we will shortly be airing a video sent to us by the terrorist known commonly as Magneto."

She was left on camera for only a moment, looking very tense indeed, before her face disappeared and a close up of Eric Lehnsherr appeared. The edges of their vision were cut so short that it was nearly impossible to see any of the background and only the man's face was visible.

He wasn't quite what Harry had been expecting. But then, after Voldemort it was difficult for anyone to ooze pure evil better.

"Brothers," the man said. Rogue recoiled at the tender and perhaps even kind quality his voice contained.

Harry looked around the room, at this one word the entire common room had fallen silent and every gaze flickered to the screen.

"I call out to my Brothers, my fellow mutants. I am currently pursued, by several governments I'm certain." He paused for a moment and his eyes seemed to glance off camera as if he was sharing a joke with someone off screen.

But when his eyes turned back to face his audience and the affability became stony.

"I have been labeled as terrorist, a funny phrase when it is us, the Brotherhood of Mutants who have been terrorized. We are forced to hide in dull anonymity, hiding our true natures least the rabid mob decides to destroy us. But it is not only in the court of public opinion in which we have been judged, but even now the once brave United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland has chosen to inflict upon its subjects the most barbarous of treatment. Murder, forced imprisonment and experimentation.

"I ask you now, rise with me my brothers. Do not bask in the denial of your own nations, come join me and we shall destroy the aggressor, before his message of terror spreads throughout our world."

The screen cut to black but not before the camera had panned a little to the left and a small portion of the Magneto's location was visible. It was the outline of a clock, but one that even an American would have no difficulty identifying.

Big Ben, it seemed Magneto had gone to London.

When the newsroom was visible again the startled looking reporter was trying to regain her composure, but her eyes still seemed unusually wide as she began reading sedately from a prompter.

"Well, you've just seen the mutant terrorist Eric Lehnsherr, commonly called Magneto, deliver a speech against the United Kingdom. This is the latest in a series---"

But whatever the new announcer was going to say next was deafened by the reactions of the teens around Harry. He had almost bolted upright, prepared for battle, the outpouring was so massive.

"_Great_!" One girl said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Now Mutants don't seem blood thirsty at all." She rolled her eyes.

A boy with brown hair next to her shook his head, "At least someone is doing something," he stated forcefully. "Since those acts passed there hasn't been any news on the mutants over there. Maybe something like the holocaust is going on and we don't even know it."

"Yeah, but we can't just declare war on another nation," the girl argued back, "The US government is just waiting for the chance to pass its own Mutant Acts."

Discussions just like this one were erupting around the room, the noise rising as the different viewpoints argued passionately for their own beliefs. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Once again he was confronted with how different this world was. Voldemort had been so tangibly evil. He'd never heard conversations in the Gryffindor Common Room debating the megalomaniac's good points.

Although maybe the Slytherin Common Room had been different.

He turned to Rogue, perhaps he'd expected outrage but instead her expression was oddly hesitant and she was watching Harry closer than he would have liked.

"He's right isn't he," she said softly. "Somethin' has to be done. You, Midnight, X-ray…all those others."

"But he isn't going about it the right way," Bobby chimed in, tossing an arm around her and shaking her shoulder in a rallying manner.

Rogue seemed to relax at Bobby's words. Harry would like to offer his own…but he wasn't as certain as Iceman where his loyalties lay.

Instead he looked up and tried to find the others. Justin had been playing table football with Pyro, but he'd moved away from the game and his attention ignored everyone else in the room as he stared blankly at the television screen. His mind seemed to be processing the information without any emotion.

Pyro had noted his opponent's lack of attention and his own expression wasn't filled with vigilante spirit as Harry would have predicted, instead he looked oddly thoughtful.

Harry never admitted to prophetic feelings, bad luck all around when messing with fate, but he'd be lying, if he said he didn't feel the faint stirrings of dread.

-

Dinner had been impossible, the chatter about Magneto's 'declaration of war' filled the room with a buzz. Harry had lost track of the British mutants and Pyro as well. Harry refused to consider this ominous and instead he focused on eating a good meal and trying to ignore the various militant conversations. And while several students around him where shouting their rebellious beliefs and planning ways of joining the crusade, Harry was utterly innocent of any such delusions of grandeur.

Despite his sincere wish to avoid any such adventures, he felt somewhat paranoid. Was it his imagination or were the attentions of his teachers drifting to him more than was normal. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he had the bad feeling that someone was talking about him.

"Harry," his name was called by a soft voice and he tilted his head up to see Storm standing above him.

"Mmm, h-gh-i" he muttered though a full mouth.

"Good evening to you as well," she stated her voice filled with authority.

Harry swallowed and waited to find out what this little visit was about.

"Harry, the Professor was hoping to speak with you after dinner tonight."

"I thought I wasn't in trouble," he blurted, recalling his little chat with Jean.

Storm blinked, "You're not in trouble," she answered. But Harry had a hard time believing her words while her tone remained severe.

"So, Professor's office after dinner?"

Storm nodded.

Eating dinner should have been more relaxing but Harry decided he'd rather get over whatever sort of lecture the Professor intended for him. Sure, maybe he shouldn't have snuck aboard the X-jet and followed them across the Atlantic and invaded a military base----wow, was that really his life? Shit, just another Saturday night after all.

---But aside from that he'd sort of saved their asses over there. What had been their exit strategy? Not that he had planned one either, but it was the principle of the thing.

He heaved a sigh and tried not to feel like he was twelve and waiting in Dumbledore's office after being accused of petrifying students.

Knock.

"Come in Harry," a warm old voice encouraged from the other side of the door.

Harry did so, but he bit his tongue when he saw who was inside. He'd expected a quiet lecture on 'the oh-so-great importance of valuing his own safety' or perhaps another discussion of the fact that he was 'still a child.'

Instead he found himself among an odd collection of his new adult acquaintances. The Professor was there and Scott was leaning against the wall behind him looked rather bored. In a chair off to the side Telltale was looking wan but with penetrating eyes. Wolverine had, oddly enough, also made the guest list and he was poised on the other side of the room standing like Scott but with noticeably less attention to posture. His gaze was also focused on the side of room and away from the others. Harry had the distinct feeling that Wolverine had been given his own dressing down, either that or he really didn't like what was about to happen.

Once again, Harry reminded himself that prophetic thinking helped no one.

"Professor," Harry said bending his head. He also nodded to Telltale, his eyes lingering for a moment on the English mutant, wondering why he was here.

"Harry," Xavier said warmly. "Thomas would like to thank you for the efforts you made on behalf of his friends and family."

Telltale nodded, his curious eyes not leaving Harry.

Harry gazed for a moment at the bandage still wrapped around his neck.

"Any hope for talking again sir?" Harry asked curiously.

Xavier looked pained at the question, "We don't know as of yet, there might still be some hope."

Harry nodded. He wished his could offer his own services, and maybe, indeed, someone like Madam Pomfrey could cure such destruction. Harry could seal the skin…but he was a loss to attempt such complicated healing.

"And while we are grateful for your help Harry, I do hope you're taking good care of yourself."

Harry nodded, he looked at the ground and fought the urge to itch his head. The Professor's unique kind of ligillamancy was scurrying across his brain, so many subtle points of pressure it felt faintly like a spider was crawling across his own mental shield.

"And your godfather is he doing better?"

The Professor could only be asking for politeness sake, Jean must have given him the update.

"He seems to be, but he's still really worn out."

Xavier shared a glance with Telltale, "Yes, what was done to him is most regrettable."

Harry nodded. Was it his imagination or was the light brush of the Professor's telepathy becoming more pronounced.

"Indeed," the Professor commented, his kind blue eyes gazing steadily at Harry.

"And Magneto," Scott said from behind the Professor, his voice strangely cool, "He's going to use this as a way of starting the war."

The Professor sighed, "I'm afraid that Eric sees the war as already begun, his own actions will be nothing more than a counter attack."

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "Isn't it?" His green eyes flickered to Telltale, wondering what the leader of the British mutants thought. His people had been imprisoned, experimented on, and even killed. Surely he could recognize the need to fight back.

But Telltale's face was serene, the tightness of his jaw was the only indication of any concern.

"Harry, the actions of a few should not be used to blame everyone."

Well, of course, Harry thought, he wondered if they thought he wanted to turn radical and attack the innocent masses.

Once again he felt the strong pressure on his mental shield, as if perhaps some hand was squeezing now. He looked up sharply and his green eyes met the Professor's innocent blue.

"What are you asking me," He asked, his tone harsher than he wanted.

His sudden shift in attitude meant little to the other people in the room, who looked at his changing expression cautiously. But the Professor didn't blink and met Harry's gaze steadily. The increased pressure in his head wasn't Harry's imagination, and the Professor silent steady gaze filled Harry with anxiety.

"Harry, the world is moving swiftly now. And with Magneto's latest challenge…it becomes necessary for us to be certain of some things."

"Some things…" Harry ground out between his teeth as the pressure in his head grew. The slight pain there now was bringing to mind the days of his scar headaches and he wasn't enjoying the comparison.

"They want to know if you're Magneto's spy," Wolverine grunted, his tone filled with a rude sort of disapproval.

"We're not saying that," Xavier said quickly. "We know he had some associates in Europe, and since Thomas---"

"What? And since he doesn't know me I must have thrown in with Magneto?" Harry asked, he clenched his teeth as the mental probe continued digging into his shield.

"We wouldn't blame you if you had, Harry," the Professor said looking away, "But we want to help you---"

"You want to help me?" Harry asked incredulously.

"See the light, walk the straight and narrow," Wolverine chanted with some annoyance behind Harry.

Harry wanted to say something rude and juvenile, like 'I don't need your help', and maybe even toss some things around the professors office for good measure. But his days of temper tantrums were over, and instead he fixed his gaze on the ground and explained to himself the reason why he really did need the X-men. No so much for himself---but Sirius was still in a bad way. He couldn't just take his godfather and disappear off the map.

But he hated this, he realized in that instant. The suspicion and the doubt, the feeling that once again the rose colored glasses had been torn off and he had to see the world for what it was. Was Mutant High really the wonderful place he had thought it to be, or was this Professor just using the place to make his students think as he thought and act as he did.

Because, maybe Magneto had the right of it. Maybe war had already been declared and Xavier was too busy teaching about peace and understanding to know that sometimes there was nothing left to do but fight. Harry knew that, had lived that. There would have been no reasoning with Voldemort, no compromise. Where the actions of the British government any different? Didn't something have to be done.

These thoughts flashed rapidly in Harry's mind and something in them must have shown in his expression of body language because the conversation around the room had disappeared.

"I'm not working with Magneto," he said hollowly, "But professor, you have to admit, he's the only one doing anything. What is it that you plan to do?"

Harry shrugged and turned to leave. He didn't have anything else to say

Scott stood up, but the Professor raised a hand to stop him, shook his head and no one stopped Harry as he left.

The silence dragged for a long moment.

"Well we had to ask," Scott said uncomfortably from behind the Professor. "Magneto has a wide range of associates around the world and with Harry's talent---and without Telltale knowing him, the boy has no history…"

The reasons were all valid, just as they had been when the discussion had started an hour ago. A mutant like Harry simply couldn't have slipped beneath the Professor and Telltale's radars all on his own. He had to have had help or contact with someone at some point.

"I told you he wasn't like that," Wolverine said with a shrug, he seemed annoying pleased with how the conversation was going.

"Why do you like that kid?" Scott demanded letting some of his anger seep into his tone. "He breaks the rules, he endangers himself and he could have endangered the mission---" Scott trailed off as Wolverine grinned.

"I think you answered your own question, Scott," The Professor said, but his usual good humor wasn't in it.

For a moment the Professor glanced at Telltale and they seemed to share a silent conversation.

"You're right old friend, we had to ask. But I can't escape the feeling that we have made a very grave error."

Telltale shared a glance.

The Professor chuckled, "No, I'm not able to see the future. And while despite some of my better efforts I couldn't enter the young man's mind, I was left with the feeling that he was disappointed in me."

The silence hung heavy.

"Yes, I'm rather disappointed in myself as well," Xavier said, shaking his head and for a moment he looked very old.

-

Harry wasn't upset, or at least he didn't look upset and that was half the battle. But he couldn't quite convince himself to go back and join the others. He felt as if he was betraying Rogue in, at least partially, admitting that Magneto might have the right of it. Well, maybe not entirely right but the man had made a few correct comments in his little speech, and Harry had begun to doubt what plans if any Xavier had for correcting the situation in Britain. It was all well and good to help the mutants escape and bring them to America but it goaded on Harry's pride to think of abandoning his country to a bunch of bigots.

He'd decided to go and visit Sirius, maybe they could have some time to talk everything over. Harry's determination to stay in this world was slipping, and if it weren't for Sirius's bad health maybe he'd join his godfather on another attempt through the veil.

"Harry! Good luck finding you, mate," Justin familiar voice echoed slightly in the underground section of Mutant High.

Harry turned and spotted Justin, and oddly enough Pyro as well.

"Hey," Harry greeted, nodding to the both of them.

"Can we talk with you a minute?" Justin asked, his shoulder gestured back down the hallway.

Harry supposed Sirius was still sleeping, it would wait, "Sure," he agreed falling into step behind them.

"We were just coming to find you," Pyro explained. "It's maze-like down here eh?"

The two teens led him into one of the rooms that had been converted into living quarters for the escapees. The room had been divided up into different curtained off sections to give the impression of privacy, but most of the curtains were opened and people were milling about talking in small groups. There was certainly a sort of fervor in the air, energy was palpable.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Pryo and Justin just gestured him to follow them deeper into the room.

In the last of the small partitions, a larger group of people had gathered. Mostly men and a few woman, as well as some teenagers like Justin and Pyro. A few of the faces Harry remembered. Torch, the dragon faced fire breathing mutant from the high security wing was looking less human that usual his scaled face set in a grim snarl. Harry also recognized the swift Spaniard whose quick agility had made him noticeable in the battle as well.

"That was fast," A tall teenage girl said, as Justin, Harry and Pyro entered.

"Yeah."

"Harry Potter," Torch addressed him, the same hissing quality to his speech. "You heard the speech the mutant Magneto gave."

Harry nodded, he was starting to see where this was going.

"Well now, He's a grandstanding, manipulative sort innit he," Torch stated.

A few others in the crowd muttered their agreement.

Okay, Harry thought, maybe he didn't know where this conversation was going.

"But he did have a point," a middle-aged woman with thick, short blonde hair said begrudgingly.

Torch nodded, "We need to fight back. Telltale wants to work with the system, and the majority of the Council has sided with him, but the system is so broken the only thing to do is tear it down and start again."

The others nodded and mutters of agreement could be heard from the twenty or so people who had gathered.

Harry sort of agreed but he stayed very still.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked slowly.

"The Rats in London, I used to work with them." Torch said.

Another man, he easily stood over seven feet and was thickly muscled. "I did too, no matter what the normals may think they can't have gotten all the Rats out of their hidey-holes."

"And if know the Rats," Torch said darkly, "They won't be taking turning the other cheek, not now."

Looking around the crowd, Harry noticed that some of the people looked less than enthusiastic about joining these Rats. Not that the name made their organizations sound appealing. Still, despite the slight reluctance most of people involved seemed to have decided to shoulder whatever burden they had to. Revenge was thick in the air, and the traces of imprisonment were easily seen.

"What do you want from me?" Harry asked getting down to the end of the matter.

"We want to go home," Justin said. His face was locked in an expression of determination. "We can't just hide here while things are happening there."

"But Xavier isn't going to loan them the X-jet if you get what I mean," Pyro added.

Harry thought of the conversation he had just had with the older man, "Yeah you're probably right about that."

"So we figured the Harry Xpress might be kinder to a bunch of rebel hitchhikers." Justin waggled his eyebrows.

"Do you know what you're getting into?"

"It's our decision to make," Torch said darkly, "No one should have the right to keep it from us."

Harry nodded.

They had a point, no one, not Telltale or Professor Xavier, could decide was right for someone else. If these people had made their choice who was he to say they were wrong. He had brought them here, it almost seemed like they were keeping them hostage if they refused to allow them to leave.

"You too?" Harry asked Pryo curiously.

"Magneto had a point, we all have a stake in this, no matter where we're from."

Harry could tell by the fierce look in Pyro's eyes that there would be no arguing with him. He wished he could tell Pryo the truth, that this daring campaign he was embarking on wasn't going to be anything like he imagined it would be. War was nothing like people imagined, but Harry couldn't explain that to his friend. He'd figure it out on his own.

"Okay, I'll give you a lift," Harry said with a nod. "I hope you all are ready for what you're getting into. Cause I have a feeling it's going to be a botched job all around."

The mutants chuckled, Harry wished he could explain that he wasn't joking.

-

A/N : Hope you enjoyed this chapter. As in previous, I don't have a Beta so these chapters are unedited. If any of my clever readers find errors, please give me detailed mention of them and I will be happy to correct them.

-Also, I am currently looking for someone who might be interested in helping me with some future chapters. Not to give too much of the plot away, but I'd like to find someone who is very familiar with the UK's parliamentary process and general knowledge of how (as we say it in the States) 'a bill becomes a law' etc. I'd prefer someone native to the country in question, as I tend to be of the frame that only a person who is truly of a culture can accurately speak for it. (But if you're particularly knowledgeable I'd be interested in you as well) I'm doing my own research but to avoid something rife with errors, a checker would be greatly appreciated.

If you think you might be a good candidate and would have the time to read over a document 20+ pages (And return it in a timely manner.) send a brief description of your skills either through a review or PM me.

The plus being you'd get to read chapters before I publish…sadly that is the only currency I can offer.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The Real World

* * *

Harry wasn't certain how it happened.

It had seemed like a normal enough request, -well, normal enough for him. After all, wasn't it his responsibility to portkey them back to England if they wanted to go. He wasn't in the business of kidnapping people across international borders-not that the idea didn't have its monetary merit-nor was he really the type to turn all preachy and 'greater good'.

Their departure hadn't gone smoothly, but that was hardly a surprise.

Thankfully none of the council leaders had been able to intervene but they didn't have as useful sources of information as the two teenage girls who did arrive. Midnight had appeared with the reddish girl named Azza only moments before Harry's portkeys were scheduled for departure.

"Dad," Azza said, her arms crossed and her face already set into a fierce determination. She walked right up to Torch and glared, "I'm going too!" she stated firmly.

"No you're not!" Torch hissed back.

"I am! They killed Viper, I want to kill them too, we can burn it all down!"

"No you don't want that!" Midnight stepped in and shook her head, her long black hair swinging around her furious face. "This is _wrong_ and you all know it."

"We've got to do something," Justin argued fiercely.

"Not like this!" Midnight said loudly. She looked around the room frantically. "Why are you doing this, we all decided to be different than the Rats, and now I hear you're going to join them."

"Shut it," Justin said lowly, he was looking down at the ground.

Midnight looked shocked.

Justin's silver eyes stared blankly, "Did you forget what happened? What they did to us? And what about the others, you can't say we should just abandon them and play school and pretend they didn't…" Justin trailed off shaking his head, his eyes looked hard, almost as if they lacked any human emotion.

"Justin-" Midnight said weakly, she reached out a hand to him but he jerked away.

Midnight built herself back up silently, refusing to look at Justin.

Azza wasn't giving into defeat.

"You can't go without me," she said firmly. "I get to do this, for my mum."

"She wasn't your mum," Torch said coldly, "I'm not your father."

Azza's ruby eyes were the only sign that his words had hurt her. "So what, I can still…"

"You can't, I'm not taking you."

Midnight reached out a hand and wrapped Azza against her while the young girl continued shaking her head silently.

Harry coughed, not looking at Midnight or Azza.

"Well, if you remember," he explained awkwardly. "All you have to do is hold on tight. I'm dropping you down in an alley off Charring Cross." Harry had decided on the small alley not only for symbolic meaning, but if his previous apparition from that point was any indication it might be the best place for a group of people to magically appear. This would be a very short rebellion if Harry dropped them down in Trafalgar Square, they'd only be seeing one very swift trial and a new cell.

The twenty or so people who had made the decision to leave nodded seriously. X-ray and Pyro were the youngest among the travelers, the majority were in their late twenties or thirties. Torch was a little hard to peg on the whole age thing but Harry tossed him in with the majority of adults.

This time Harry had decided to use one of the blankets that had been on a cot. Stretched out similar to a rope, the blanket made a great device to easily transfer this many people.

Harry stepped away, as they all grouped around it. He looked at X-ray and Pyro wearily, but in the end there wasn't any argument he could offer them.

"I can't believe you're helping them with this," Midnight said, her tone furious.

Harry ignored her. He crossed his arms.

"One, Two" he began the countdown, "Thre-"

On three all hell broke loose. Azza made a dash for the protkey, Torch seemed to have expected this and tried to block her. He gave her a firm shove which managed to knock her into Harry and just like some sick game of dominos Harry toppled right into the portkey.

The word 'three' was still firmly in his mind when he felt the navel tugging sensation of being pulled hundreds of miles away.

The small alley Harry had chosen would have been a perfect place to land-were it not for the drunken young man who had chosen a rubbish bin there to empty his stomach, and were it not for his slightly inebriated mates who had decided to laugh at him while he did so.

"Shit," Harry said tumbling onto the dirty ground.

The four young men seemed to suddenly realize that they were now sharing the alley with more than a dozen people, all of who had appeared out of nowhere.

"Woah, are you seeing this?" one of the youths asked.

"Mu-"

But Harry was quick with stunning spells and the four men slumped to the ground before Harry had even gotten to his feet.

"Err, let's get out of here," Justin suggested.

Harry moved to prop the young men up against the wall. Hopefully they could wake up soon and enjoy their drunken hallucinations.

"Harry do the whammy thing," Pyro said.

Everyone stared blankly.

Harry slid a grimy hand down his face irritably, he'd actually not intended to come on this particular jaunt. "It's not really-Oh bugger it."

Another grouping of people were passing their alley's entrance and laughing raucously. Maybe Pyro had a point, they'd need a hand to get wherever they were going. Then they could take it from there, their mess was their own problem.

"I don't think I can do this many," Harry said. Notice-me-not charms did require some effort after all. He looked curiously among the group and spotted the ones who, as they said at Mutant High, walked on the strange side.

Torch looked at him threateningly as Harry approached and raised his hands.

"I come in peace," Harry muttered ironically.

Torch didn't see the humor.

Harry quickly cast the charm on five of the most conspicuous mutants, the others blended in with the London streets easily enough. Harry feel into step near the front of the group, partially to keep the spell going, but also because Torch was leading their little Mutant Pride Parade and not everyone was able to 'notice' him given the spellwork.

Still, Harry felt uncomfortable essentially leading the group of people who followed behind him and he dropped back to fall into step beside Justin.

"So, these Rats. What are they like?" Harry asked quietly, keeping one eye on Torch as the man continued leading them through the city and toward the river if Harry was any guess.

"Well, the name sort of gets the general idea across," Justin said softly. "They live in London sewers, petty criminals for the most part. It's why Telltale made the Haven, he didn't like seeing what happened to the kids who ended up there. It was pretty much the only place to go, you know if your parents kicked you out, well before the Haven that is."

Justin shared a look around, "Some people from Haven used to be there. Torch was one. And the Hammer. Torch used to be an arsonist or something, he'd burn a place so that the owners could collect the insurance. Least that's what Azza said. I haven't exactly asked him about it."

Harry smiled grimly and cast a glance at Pyro, yes this sounded like just the place for his fiery friend. It was difficult not to feel the sudden unpleasant feeling that Dumbledore's eyes were staring at him very disapprovingly. The Greater Good was telling him this was a very bad idea.

"You ever met them?" Harry wondered.

"No way," Justin said. He stopped and stretched his neck, "I mean nothing against them…It's just well, when I was starting to figure out what was happening to me- I got involved with the Haven. And well, let's just say the two have never mixed very well."

"Until now," Harry mentioned.

"Well," Justin looked uncomfortable, "Doubt Telltale is going to be too excited about this."

Justin hung his head and seemed reluctant to say any more on the subject. Harry chose to look away and instead his gaze caught on Torch who was walking steadily though the London streets seeming to enjoy the Notice-Me-Not charm that left him almost invisible to the 'normal' people who would usually scream and run away. Almost unwillingly, Harry caught up to the fire breathing mutant and fell into step.

"So, you know where you're going?" He asked.

"Well enough," Torch hissed. His voice always sounded slightly hoarse. "They don't move the main Market Place often."

Harry nodded and couldn't think of anything else to say.

It was rather late but the city of London was an insomniac and they passed other night walkers who seemed to be enjoying the good evening weather. Their rather large group looked only slightly out of place amongst the quartets and pairs of revelers. Occasionally a single person would sweep nervously past their group, their heads bowed low as they returned home from some occupation that had forced them to be out so late. Harry watched these normal people living their lives and for a moment felt a small tug of-was it jealously. No that wasn't it exactly, but what wouldn't he give to he headed home himself right now.

It wasn't as far of a walk as Harry have been expecting, Torch had been leading them closer to the river and the smell of the moisture was thick in the air now. And even though it was late, standing along the Victoria Embankment made the world seem like it was wide awake. From a distance, the lights of Waterloo Bridge and the London Eye danced on the water; by comparison the warm yellow glow of the House of Parliament seemed ancient and oddly grim. Harry couldn't help but let his eyes wander to these well known images. He'd never really spent much time in the muggle parts of the London and his eyes were drawn to these features. He knew them like he knew his own face, and yet they seemed new and exciting.

"Hurry it," Torch hissed.

Harry fell back into step, following the fire breathing mutant off the more populated path and into one of the shaded gardens that had been built along the Thames back when the land was being converted from swamp. Despite the darker setting, Torch's steps were steady and he led them down a little further to the river.

Close to the bank, the water echoing loudly enough that it drowned out the other night sounds, Harry could see what appeared to be the opening of a large pipe or drain. It had been grated over and some greenery was growing over it. It looked like it had been abandoned some years ago.

Torch moved to the grate and moved his hands low to the ground, as if he were feeling for something in particular. His expression grew somewhat hesitant, until Harry heard the sound of metal groaning. Torch must have unhooked some sort of latch that was concealed by the vines that grew thicker on the ground. With some grunting the fire mutant was able to push the bars blocking the pipe open a small degree.

"This way," he hissed nodding his head and disappearing into the darkness.

"This is gonna smell like shit," Pyro complained and visually took a deep breath.

Harry had a feeling it might be like the Chamber of Secrets revisited.

It took only a few minutes into the tunnel to realize that Pyro assessment was a little more accurate than his own, but Harry noticed that the stronger scents seemed to be coming closer to the ground, which thankfully he couldn't see that well, and there was even a faint breeze rustling though the tunnel bringing in fresh air from somewhere.

Torch paused and took a breath, then opened his mouth and released a whip of flame that briefly lit the tunnel. Everyone blinked as the light blinded their sensitive eyes.

Torch's fire died and they were back in semidarkness again.

"Need more light," the firebreather hissed, his words slightly less clear after the fire had charred his throat.

"Lumos," Harry whispered softly, allowing a ball of bluish white light to float into the air above their heads.

"Great," Justin commented.

"Ew, dead rat," Pyro complained gazing at the small furry corpse that was lying near his feet. "Somehow it was better when I couldn't see it."

But Torch ignored the mutterings from the crowd as the others took in the much appreciated light. He seemed to be examining the tunnel walls, as if he was looking for some sort of a sign or map. He crouched closer to the floor, and based on his lack of reaction to the smell, Harry assumed Torch's nose was thankfully less sensitive than most.

Whatever he found seemed to make the mutant happy, or as happy as Harry had seen him.

"This way, we've got a walk," he hissed.

"How did you know?" one of the adult mutants that Harry was unfamiliar with asked.

Torch jerked his shoulder to where he had paused. The tunnel wall looked unmarked, that is until Harry spotted a small triangle near where a pipe junction was.

"Codes?" he asked.

Torch nodded but didn't explain.

Walking in a dark filthy tunnel is a very different thing than walking on the London streets. Firstly, the tunnel they were walking in, while mostly straight, had a tendency to bend and curve randomly. Some sections were still in good condition; others looked ancient and were partially flooded. In one section they had been forced to walk pressed against a ledge to avoid some foul gray water that so opaque they couldn't see the bottom.

Time flowed differently underground, it dragged at an almost painful pace. Harry gave up attempts of conversation completely. He, Pyro and Justin just followed the train of walkers who still trailed behind Torch.

Then the light began to change, Harry's cold blue light began to be edged by a warmer glow that seeped from behind a bend up ahead. Their pace increased in a hopeful way and Harry thought perhaps even the air seemed a little fresher, or maybe he was just becoming optimistic.

But the light continued, soon Harry's glowing orbs were a dull comparison to the warm luminance that brought the dark tunnels into sharp focus.

The tunnel mouth had widened into what appeared to a marketplace of some sort. Dwellings, of a fashion, were constructed flush against the cement wells. But the biggest difference was the space that suddenly towered overhead, Harry hadn't imagined that they were so far underground, but the roof had risen several stories. As Harry looked up he noted residences built into stone, giving the place the look of those native Cliff dwelling he'd seen pictures off. How the Rats had accomplished something this massive underground was anyone's guess.

Faces peered out without much enthusiasm as they walked further into small encampment. Torch seemed to be the only one who merited a greeting, Harry noticed a man with a thick bristly beard nod to him as they passed. But the fire breathing mutant had set his face in a slightly terrifying expression.

"This was somewhat a surprise."

A man had entered from behind a building, emerging from a tunnel that Harry hadn't noticed, but Torch didn't seem at all surprised. The stranger put Harry on edge, and at first he wasn't certain why. The man wasn't like some of those mutants who walked on the strange side, nor did his presence immediately inspire feelings of fear. He looked friendly even, a little worn, but with an open face. It wasn't until Harry realized how tensely Torch was holding himself and how the other Rats seemed to pull back or surge behind this man, then Harry knew his initial reaction was correct.

Maybe it was also the way the man's eyes seem to light up when he saw Harry. It didn't take all of Harry's experience of being a pawn in war to know when someone found you…useful.

"I thought you weren't coming back," the man said directing his words to Torch and seemingly ignoring the people trailing behind him.

There was a slight bit of tension for a moment as the two stood staring each other down. Harry could almost feel the intensity in the air. He wondered how much of this all balanced on the tip of a knife.

"Good to have you," the man stuck out his hand, it was somewhat scarred and looked very rough, but Torch clasped it with a cold expression. Around them the faces seemed to soften and people began to go about whatever business the small greeting had interrupted.

"We were in the middle of a meeting when Borgy," the man gestured toward a pudgy fellow beside him, "mentioned you'd come."

Borgy showed his snaggled teeth for a moment in a passive sort of a smile, "Wouldn't ta think I'd see it, if I didn't see it." He said in a hoarse voice.

"Useful as ever," the man said, but seemed to dismiss Borgy with barely a glance. For the first time his gaze left Torch, although they lingered on Harry for a few moments longer, and then his gaze swept over the mutants behind Torch.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He stated with a commanding sort of tone. "Mick Watts," he said introducing himself with a tap on his chest. "If you all are going to be useful, you might as well join us."

"Yes, indeed," A more cultured voice added from the same tunnel Watts had emerged from, "Welcome, Brothers."But this was a face that they all knew, Magneto.

Harry didn't know what he should think when confronted with the man that haunted Rogue's nightmares, the evil villain, so to speak of this whole X-men mutant world. He thought the man looked…short, and altogether too human. But he was still Magneto and that seemed to inspire some respect from the mutants around him. Watts didn't look impressed, however.

Harry gave a side glance to Pyro, wondering how the young man would face confronting this old enemy as it were, but he didn't find the rage he had expected. Pyro looked…curious.

"Meeting's already started," Watts said to Torch, jerking his shoulder back from where they had come. "You'd want to come."

Torch nodded and with a glance back to some of the other Haven members, they ducked their heads as they entered the short tunnel and followed the trailing Rats. The gloom of the slight darkness was almost peaceful again, as they all rustled beside each other.

Harry, to his surprise, found himself walking beside Watts, and the older man was staring at him in a friendly manner. "What's your name, son?" he asked.

"Harry, Harry Potter" he replied with some hesitation.

"Welcome lad, if you need anything, well I'd be glad to help. Wouldn't want you getting pinched again."

Harry nodded silently, watching the man carefully.

But Watts drifted back to the front of the line and they soon reached a metal door that was guarded by a man at least seven feet tall with bulging biceps and eyes that looked slightly dead.

"Go recharge," Watts ordered the large man. "We got enough fire power, no ticks gonna wanna crawl in here."

The large man nodded and lumbered away like some docile monster.

The metal door opened and a burst of noise introduced them to the chaos that was happening inside. Perhaps they had been expecting some sort of placid meeting, or even the boredom of some governmental assembly. Instead, it seemed a fistfight of some sort had broken out. The room was filled with the deafening jeers of the spectators along with the crashing of most of the furniture. Four figures, or maybe it was more (Who could really tell?) were grappled together, it wasn't boxing so much as just a mesh of limbs and arms moving rapidly.

A whistle broke through the noise like some sonic blast and all the action ceased in a moment.

"Well, gentlemen," Watts said looking amused. "Back to business then."

The four individuals who had been fighting picked up chairs, ignored their bleeding, and settled them back against the long table that was set in the middle of the room. Harry noted that this was hardly King Arthur and his round table, Watts took a prominent place at the front while several others crowded around him. Magneto established himself to the left, his lone assistant, the blue skinned woman Harry had heard mention of, sat beside him, her yellow eyes looking slightly alien.

To Watts's right was skinny girl, no older than sixteen, with stringy blonde hair and vacant eyes. Her hand reached out and latched onto Watts as he settled himself, but she quickly released after the brief touch. Others seemed to surround Watts to varying degrees and Harry noted with some caution the loyalty he observed.

There were only a few kinds of leaders, he thought, and they had different ways of keeping people close to them. What kind was Watts?

Torch settled himself at the table, seeming to have no desire to speak to or see anyone else, he face was just as emotionless as usual.

Harry hung back, looking at the group of battered survivors who had survived in London during the Mutant Acts. Some looked relatively comfortable and well fed, while others were ragged and looked almost feral. Harry remembered what Justin had said about the Rats. You had to survive by your own skills here…some were better at that than others.

"Well we've settled on our first action, and you newcomers will lend us a hand in it." Watts addressed Torch specifically and there was a cold harshness about his words "Or you can leave." He paused to offer a genial smile, "If you don't you'll wish the Mutant hunters found you."

Harry didn't doubt what he said, this was no bravado.

Some of those gathered near Watts chuckled.

"How do you kill a snake?" Watts asked

"You cut off the head," an Indian man with a faint accent replied. He didn't look enthused with the answer and kept flipping through the technical magazine he'd been fiddling with since they had entered. He seemed oddly out of place among the masses of Rats, he was wearing a crisp white shirt and navy tie, looking more like a business man than a criminal. Not that those were always separate entities.

"Yes," Watts said, ignoring the man's dissenting tone casually.

"Bitch should be staked," a lanky man growled fiercely.

A muttering of agreement followed this pronouncement.

"She does seem to control a large base of opinion," Magneto offered with some doubt. But his resources were significantly diminished here, Harry noted. He had a feeling that despite the man's mutant power, which was rumored to me immense, the most valuable weapon in the den of the Rats was manipulation. And currently Watts had the aces.

"We can get her where she lives," the thin blonde girl said. Her voice ran shivers down Harry's spine, it was as if she was half there and half somewhere else. "She spends a lot of time in a den on the eastern side of the building. It's nice."

Borgy, the round nosed man from earlier turned to Harry suddenly, sparking Watts attention as well.

"I say we get her at one of those fancy rallies," a bald man said rubbing his fists.

"More security there," the Indian man from earlier added.

"More fun," the bald man argued.

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that.

"Who?" Torch asked.

"The She Bitch Queen herself, Speaker Chand."

"As in the Speaker of the House of Commons?" Justin squeaked a little nervously.

"She's the one breaking the rules of parliament and pushing these new Acts," Watts said thoughtfully. "She's the head. Chop off the head…"

"Well that's just stupid," Harry said more loudly that he had thought. The words had come out automatically, and he wanted to bite his tongue as soon as he had said it.

Several faces turned to him, just as Borgy's had moments ago.

"You got something to say boy?" A rather large man standing behind Harry asked.

"Merrick," Watts warned. "What makes you say that, Harry." His voice was suddenly kinder and the people around him seemed surprised.

Harry swallowed, he was supposed to be heading back soon, right.

"She's their symbol, I saw them selling bleeding bobble heads of her in Trafalgar square" he looked around the people hoping he wasn't making some error. "You kill her, especially at some rally, she's going be a martyr, they'll make her the Jesus Christ of Mutant haters."

Watts seemed thoughtful for a moment as the people muttered dissent around him.

"Let's be straight then. She needs to be stopped," Watts said interrupting the clamor that had built up. "Now we can stop her anyway that works, but body bags are more final."

Harry couldn't argue with that.

"But I'll tell you what, son, I'll give you a week to find another way. If you do it, fine then. But she's too dangerous, give her anymore time and she'll get a boa grip."

"Wait, _me_? I wasn't going to be…" he trailed off .

Harry knew what would happen. Watts was offering him this chance because he wanted something from him, but if Harry left they'd go with the original plan. And if that happened Harry knew the Mutants would have to abandon London, maybe even England. For good. This wasn't his war, and he could easily turn his back…but somehow he wondered if he could do just one good thing before he left.

"Any volunteers to help," Watts posed as Harry's silence dragged.

"Sign me up," Pyro chimed in eagerly.

Justin nodded as well, setting his jaw as Torch gave him a small shake of the head.

"Me too."

Harry looked up in surprise, the Indian man with the computer magazine had spoken, his dark eyes catching on Harry with a faint smile.

No one else said a word.

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "It could be worse."

* * *

Sirius Black was sleeping fitfully. He had this vague feeling that there was something he had to do. Instantly as his eyes opened and he knew what it was. He had to find Harry. His body jerked and he made a move to get up from the bed-but then he remembered and he allowed himself to relax.

He'd found Harry, Harry was safe. They were going to be a family again, them against the world- or worlds as the case may be.

He heard voices from the next bed and settled silently into his mattress to listen for a moment. What he heard was a very odd one-sided conversation.

"You can't blame yourself," an old voice said despondently, "After all they've suffered, perhaps it was unavoidable that they would want to take some action. I only wish they had waited, we have no intention of abandoning Britain."

A pause lasted for a moment.

"Oh I have very little doubt that his intentions were noble, or at least he thinks so."

The older man chuckled.

"You're right, I'm not privy to his mind to know for certain. But during his time here I've learned that Mr. Potter does what he deems right. And it may be my fault for creating this rift…I fear I've broken your rule."

The silence dragged for a long time after this and Sirius held his breath.

"There is little we can do for now," the old man said tiredly. "With Magneto's escape, focus has shifted to America and I fear my X-men may be needed here. We may just have to hope that Mr. Potter's sense of right is good enough to do for the time being."

Again, that puzzling silence before the same voice spoke.

"You're right Thomas, it isn't fair to place this burden on a child. There are other men who would gladly take on England's fate, you know as well as I do what their intentions are…I honestly don't see any better options."

A strange sound on the tile floor made Sirius pause, but then the divider closing off his bed was pulled aside by a man in a wheelchair, his blue eyes examined Sirius with a tired expression.

"What would you say Mr. Black, can we trust your godson's judgment?"

Sirius felt a brief tickle over his Occluded mind.

"I'd trust him with my life," he answered without pause.

The Professor didn't seem to have anything to say to that, but he nodded thoughtfully before turning back to the other man in the room, one who was sitting with a heavy bandage still around his throat.

"Very true, so might we all."

* * *

Harry had decided to leave the meeting room where the rest of the mutants were discussing the various methods for killing Speaker Chand. It was somewhat counterproductive to his own agenda, an agenda he had taken on out of sheer stupidity. What was still doing among these mutants? He should go back to Sirius and -Sirius was sick.

Harry sighed, somehow the matter at hand seemed more enjoyable than facing that.

"Thanks, Harry," Justin said as they moved back out to the main tunnels, following the Indian mutant who had introduced himself as Garabed Bashur, or Black Box.

"For what?" Harry asked tilting his head at the silver eyed mutant who seemed slightly more like his other world self now that they were among the Rats.

"For having another plan, I didn't want to have to…" he trailed off looking awkward, "I know she should… and I hate her and all but…" He stuttered his words and looked at his palms.

"I don't have a problem with killing her," Harry said with a shrug, He didn't want his new friends to be confused there. And as soon as he said the words he knew it with certainty. "I could do it with no problem."

Justin stared at him blankly, or at least Harry thought he was staring at him. Those silver eyes made catching Justin's gaze tricky.

"It's not that hard," he said thinking back to Voldemort. He'd never regretted that, or worried about taking a life. And all those Death Eaters, he hadn't mourned them even one hour, one minute, one second.

Harry had the strangest paranoia that Justin's X-ray vision could see that, could see right into Harry's mind. That Justin could see what a nice little monster he was. It wasn't that he was some homicidal maniac, but sometime long ago he'd decided, maybe without even realizing it, that sometimes it took killing people to get them out of your life. And he was just monster enough to see the sense in that.

"But that way isn't smart," Harry said, fighting a yawn as he continued following Black Box, they had slipped into a small crevice that left them flush against a dirty wall for a moment, then into a large pipe with water running at the floor.

"That have been my point as well," Black Box joined the conversation with a slight pause. His voice had a slight accent but it sounded oddly cultured for the Rat crowd. Harry would guess that he was somewhere in his late twenties, maybe even thirties. Or maybe it was the clean cut look about him that made him look older. "But try to put the Guv on a different path, he won't go unless he sees how it benefits him."

"Who is he anyway," Pyro asked from the rear, he'd been rather serious ever since they had joined the Rat's meeting.

"Guv Watts, well he runs things. Has for awhile, and he's got too many _friends_ for it to be any other way."

"I heard Telltale say he was like the leader of the mutant Mafia," Justin added.

Black Box laughed in a dark way, "Don't let him hear you saying that."

"He is a criminal though, right?"

"Who isn't," Black Box said.

Justin closed his mouth suddenly and nodded.

"No, Guv used to run things like an old Crime Boss, even went to jail for racketeering and smuggling. But he figures he's some kind of noble leader now." Black Box scoffed and shook his head. "But shagging sixteen year-olds don't make him Winston Churchill in my book, course ol' Winston wasn't even Churchill, if you get my meaning."

"Lovely," Justin groaned, rubbing his face irritably.

"Not liking your new digs, Haven boy?" Black Box asked looking slightly amused.

Justin shrugged and stared at the ground, "There isn't much of a choice."

"Er, yeah," Pyro added sounding chipper, "I mean it's not all bad, look at our nice new accommodations." He gestured to the walls of the sewage tunnel they had just entered, ducking their heads to avoid the low ceiling.

"I've seen worse," Harry offered.

"Me too," Justin agreed sounding a little more cheerful, if possible.

"Well, what is it the Yanks say? Freedom is never free? Well you've got a point there, my new mates." Black Box's voice was rattled with sarcasm.

"Why'd you join us," Harry asked, getting a chance to voice the worry that had been a focal point in his mind ever since Black Box has raised his hand. Harry didn't trust people, he didn't know this man and while he was willing to place some confidence in Justin and Pyro there was no reason for this man to side with three teenagers in a lost cause mission.

Black Box's white teeth seemed to stand out among the gloom of the tunnel, "Because I've got more between my ears than cotton, that's way. Don't misunderstand; I know why he's doing it. Watt's trying to keep the main lot under control, keep this orderly, which has been bloody impossible since the world started crashing down around us. There are some wild ones who want to go out in the streets and start taking out anyone in their path. But chaos is bad for business boys. And setting them on a murder plot seems to keeps them occupied, but dead boring for me to work on.

"Then there is Magneto, the zany bugger. He has his plans I'm sure, probably focused on taking over the world and what not, but I've never been the type for world domination. Too much work and politics and ideals with that bugger, not enough smarts.

"And then you got a _pass_."

Black Box stopped his steps and turned to look at Harry with dark intelligent eyes. "Watts only gives free passes to one type of person and you might look like a scrawny kid to me, but whatever the old codger might be, I trust his eyes."

"What is his mutation anyway?" Pyro asked following the conversation with a frown.

"Guv sees what people can do, what they're good at. In the normals he can see, well, if they're a good fighter, if they're good with numbers, or maybe just good at telling dirty jokes…but with us, well he can see a bit more."

"He can see what someone's mutation is?" Justin asked softly.

Black Box nodded, "Even more, he can see what it could be."

Harry didn't understand that but nodded.

"Doesn't sound that good to me," Pyro commented with a shrug.

Black Box laughed in a mirthless way then suddenly their guide stopped dead and turned to face Harry sharply.

"You've got something he wants, and the way I figure it, he doesn't want for much anymore. So he gave you pass. He saw right through you, and figured what would tie you to him."

He turned to Pyro with a sneer, "Still not 'sound like much', boy?"

Pryo swallowed and looked at Harry.

"How much further," Harry asked ignoring the conversation and looking forward, he'd been careful to memorize the route they had been taking in case their new comrade proved untrustworthy.

"Not much," Black Box dropped back into step and they followed him.

Indeed, after only a few more meters, the tunnel reached an end and Black Box turned a wheel unsealing a door of some kind and allowing them to enter what appeared to be a janitor's closet.

"I like to have access to the sewers, gives me a good escape route and well, some of the undergrounders are my best customers." he explained before exiting the small space and entering…

Harry didn't know much about computers, he'd admit that freely. Granted, Harry didn't know much about the muggle world in general, but considering he didn't talk to parking meters…well he was a step above most of the wizarding populace. Still Harry had to admit the sight he was presented with was impressive if only in the quantity. Screens and devices hummed and lights flickered, Harry had no idea what it was but he supposed it was the sort of sight that composed any geek's dream.

"Coo," Justin said looking around with some interest.

"I run a computer company, least as far as the abovers are concerned. Legal even…for the most part." Black Box said dismissively.

He flicked a switch and the lights flickered on.

A small corner of the room had been set aside as a living area, with two couches and a chair, a door with a small window seemed to lead to a storefront of some sort, Harry didn't know what kind of computer company it was, but the place looked shiny and fully fitted to appeal to customers. Black Box settled in the chair and pulled a laptop from a small side table and turned it on.

Pyro and Justin looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.

"So what were you planning then?" Justin asked.

Harry settled onto a couch and stared ahead for a moment, "She's a politician, and there is only one thing I know about politicians."

"They're dirt bags?" Pyro offered.

"Mad as hatters?" was Justin's contribution.

"Committed to civic duty," Black Box said in a bored tone.

"Nope," Harry said seriously "They're snappy dressers."

The three other people in the room paused, even Black Box looked up from his laptop screen.

"They _are_," Harry argued, "Ever meet one that wasn't?"

They had to think for a moment.

"You know, he has a point."

"And you only dress that well if you're trying to hide something," Harry stated.

"Is he crazy?" Black Box asked turning to the other two, there was no jocular edge to his tone. He was serious.

"Only sometimes," Pyro offered. "But he's good in a fight."

"Politicians all have skeletons in the closet," Harry continued ignoring their speculations as he looked down at his hands. "We wouldn't need to kill her, people are only following her because she's looking down from her pedestal and saying whatever she wants. But if we can get them to turn on her…" Harry trailed off thoughtfully.

Black Box smiled slightly, his teeth surprisingly white and straight, "You know that actually sounds like a good idea. If only to watch the old buzzard get knocked down a peg or two before Guv finishes her off."

Pyro and X-ray smiled as well nodding as they looked at Harry.

"How we gonna do this?" Pyro asked. He chuckled slightly, "Gonna have X-ray specks here take a peek at her underwear drawer."

Justin rolled his eyes, least Harry thought he did.

But Black Box just smiled faintly, the glow of the computer screens reflecting off his eyes. "I've got a better idea," he said.

* * *

The office of the esteemed Speaker of the House was located in a very respectable street, not far from 10 Downing street. It had the appearance of a very neat brownstone, one whose hedges were trimmed using a ruler. Traditionally the Speaker of the House of Commons was perhaps the one person who wasn't supposed to speak, and the individual gave up all partisan affiliations prior to taking on the role…but if Harry was any judge he had a feeling that Speaker Chand had changed that rule some.

There was a small pub/coffee shop that operated less than a block from the Speaker's office, and it seemed to cater to the young politicos that ran around working for the many parliamentary figures who had offices nearby. A 24 hour news station was airing a program, regarding a recent bill and Speaker Chand was featured heavily, her lovely face with its precise smile flashing for the camera almost once every two minutes.

Blackbox sighed as he sipped his tea and looked up at the Speaker's grinning face.

"Waste of a Sundara laṛakī" he said slipping into a language Harry didn't know.

"A pretty girl from Bhārat Ganarājya shouldn't be spreading such horrible things, almost makes me sad to consider myself a Desi," he laughed, "Of course I'm a capitalist first, so why should I worry?"

Harry wasn't entirely certain what the man was talking about, but he nodded.

"No worries," Pyro offered, "I'm about as German as it gets, but that doesn't mean you can blame me for Hitler."

X-ray laughed, "I think there are people more German than you, they live in Germany."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot I've ventured over to the fatherland," Pyro said rolling his eyes. "If you're more than 50% of anything, that counts in America."

Harry continued glancing up at the screen for a moment while his companions chattered on.

Madam Speaker Chand was indeed a rather beautiful woman for someone who was trying so hard to kill innocent people. Her rich black hair was always styled back in a loose, but well composed, chignon at the base of her neck, and her dark brown eyes were large and fringed with long black lashes. Her body was curvy in a way that managed to be attractive but not sexy. And like Harry had said, she was one snappy dressed, always seen clothed in rich looking suits and crisp hats. She looked and acted like most politicians Harry had met, polished and clean with enough fake cheer to fuel two New Years parties.

When she smiled there was something enigmatic in her expression, and it really did draw you in. She would pause right before speaking to the camera, smile, and then in a deep sweet voice she'd say some of the worst things Harry had ever heard, put very politely of course.

"Well you see, it really is a matter of public safety," she said with her honey voice, "We wouldn't allow dangerous creatures to roam the streets of London, endangering children. It's quite reasonable to put restrictions on things that aren't human, evolved societies have been doing it for years. We're merely trying to keep up with these little genetic dead ends, and allow natural selection to take its course."

Harry smiled, the more things change the more they stay the same.

"Why are we here again, shouldn't we be busting into Miss Prissy Pant's office or something?" Pyro asked a little too loudly.

"No need," Blackbox said gesturing to a sign that was placed near the door.

**WiFi Here **

The words were posted in bold letters and Harry stared at them for a moment.

"My mutation allows me to psychically retrieve, interpret and store data from any form of electronic media. I've only got to hack into her system. Being this close just makes it easier to pinpoint her system. This section of London in particular is a little bogged down."

"How's that possible?" X-ray asked sounding thoughtful.

"I can attach myself to electronic signals and essentially download information into my brain."

Harry nodded, "That's one I can't do," he said smiling at Pyro.

Pyro chuckled darkly.

"The only issue might be with her security so I'm trying to scope her system out," Black Box's words meant very little to Harry and he continued to stare around blankly at the people who were eating in the small restaurant.

X-Ray however sounded interested, "But how do you keep that much information straight? I mean that's like…a lot."

Black Box merely looked at him blankly and then continued staring into space in a bored manner.

X-ray turned to Harry was who seated next to him and nudged the other boy, "He seems helpful," he said nodding toward their new acquaintance.

Harry nodded, he knew what his old friend was getting at. The Rats weren't exactly the altruistic type, and he was pretty sure that there would be a price tag attached to anything that Black Box might be doing to help them. But right now he was the best chance they had of finding some dirt on the charming female politician. And based on the woman's massive crowd appeal, whatever they found had better be good.

"I'm getting the runaround," Black Box said, his attention coming back to the table. "I'd have to physically be in the same room as her data storage." He looked a Pryo and cocked his head, "Looks like you'll get your wish boy."

Harry grew pensive for only a moment, based on his unique mutation he wouldn't have any trouble breaking into a muggle office.

"Just call me Houdini," he said with a shrug, "But it will be better to come back after dark." Harr y looked outside, it was light out now but he had no idea what time. Being underground made it difficult to guess.

Black Box eyed him speculatively but didn't say anything.

Justin glanced around at the other patrons of the restaurant, some who were cheering softly at Speaker Chand's more venomous statements.

"Let's get back underground then, sorta stinks up here," Justin said with a tired voice.

Harry took a moment to look at his old friend, this Justin seemed so different than his own. He seemed so world weary, it was hard to imagine that the cheerful Hufflepuff could become like this. But then this Justin had been rejected by his parents, he had built a new home with the good people at the Haven-only to have that taken away by such violence.

Harry once again found himself unsettled at how much the world had changed. Would this be how the world would react if they found out about magic? Harry had always known the Dursleys were hateful people, but somehow he had always thought that the rest of the world would be different. If he was the sort to speculate about the nature of humanity, he might be given to a rather gloomy prediction. But since he wasn't, and had done his best to give up such introspection, he followed Black Box back underground.

* * *

When they returned to the computer den, they all came to the decision that tomorrow night would be the night for their grand heist, mostly considering the act that Harry and his friends were more than a little exhausted from the time difference. And while breaking into a Muggle politicians' office didn't worry Harry, a little rest would give them time to get to know their target better.

The three teenagers had settled back in Black Box's lair. Justin was fiddling with a computer, checking his email and even reading up on some online comic that he was a fan of. Apparently imprisonment in a government facility had made it difficult to keep up with his online life.

Black Box was fiddling with his own laptop, something about getting the plans for Chand's building.

Pyro and Harry, both less technologically inclined, were stretched out on the couches and looking over some of the articles Black Box had found regarding Speaker Chand. Her full name was Putul Chand, and there was plenty of information regarding her years at Oxford, and her rise to power in the House, as well as her love of rose gardening…but precious little on the early years of a young Putul. This was frustrating, but also good news as far as Harry was concerned. Obviously someone had gone to some effort to hide something, giving his loose plan hope of success.

But eventually Harry and Pyro grew bored and their conversations shifted to discussing some of the things that had been going on back at Mutant High.

"Bet Bobby is pissed," Pyro said suddenly.

"About what?" Harry asked blankly.

Pyro gestured around them, "about us taking off to save the day. He's got to sit around now."

"Why didn't you ask him to come," Harry wondered aloud. He had thought that despite their differences Pyro and the Iceman where close friends.

"I know what he'd say," Pyro said, leaning back on the arm rest of the pillow and staring up at the ceiling.

Harry nodded. "What are you planning after this?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, are you going back to Mutant High?"

Pyro was quiet for a moment, "There is no reason to go back there," he said, he shook his head and stood up, crossing over to where Justin was chuckling at whatever he'd found online.

Harry watched his two…friends? Was that the word? He felt too old to have new friends, he felt too jaded. When he had met Ron and Hermione, he had been so eager for friends, he had craved friends more than even food when growing up with the Dursleys. When he had abandoned his world, he had abandoned them as well. And he had done it without even a thought. That didn't speak too well of him, he knew it.

"We might want to consider reaching out to more allies," Black Box said interrupting Harry's musings.

"I don't think this is the sort of mission that many of the Rats are interested in," Harry said with a chuckle.

"No, they wouldn't be," Black Box said without hesitation. "But I know some mutants who, well they wouldn't be comfortable with murder plots, but they might be good at getting intel on Chand."

Harry nodded slowly. "I thought the Rats were the only mutants left in London."

"Not exactly," Black Box said, he ran a finger along his well shaven jaw line, "There is a group of them, it's smaller now, but I operate a forum for them. They operate mainly online, but they do have some unique talents-"

"Are you talking about bloody home kids," Justin interrupted, his tone one of distaste.

Black Box smiled, "They usually prefer to go by-"

"Yeah, yeah," Justin waved his words away, "Their acronym is even worse than what I call them."

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously, having Hermione for a friend he'd seen his share of badly chosen acronyms.

"Social Communication for Underage Mutants," Black Box recited faithfully. "It's a web group, I created the code for it, made it secure for young mutants in England, probably the safest place for mutant to talk online. A place to share information-"

"What a minute," Pyro said suddenly, "Let me get this straight, they willing chose a name whose letters spell S. C. U. M." He started laughing to himself.

"I think they've changed it recently actually, after that was pointed out," Black Box said seriously. "It's Social Communication Network for Underage Mutants…but well, you know how a name can stick."

"They're home kids," Justin said with a frown. "They're too scared and useless to do anything but hide away at home and have their mommies and daddies protect them."

Maybe it was Harry, but he thought he sensed some hurt and anger in the young mutant's tone. He wondered what had happened to this Justin's home, and why his parents had accepted magic but couldn't abide mutation.

Black Box shook his head, "They're hardly useless, some have developed exceedingly useful mutations, Watt has even courted a few, trying to bring them to the Rats." Black Box seemed eager to defend them, and Harry wondered why.

"I've been on that stupid site, it's all whinging and tips on how to be normal."

"Scum indeed," Pryo said, rolling his eyes.

"Would any of them be able to help us in getting information on Chand?" Harry asked.

Black Box seemed thoughtful, while Justin seethed.

"They might."

Harry turned to Justin with his palms raised in a placating gesture. "We can't plan on getting the information we need from Chand's office," he said. "We need more allies, more eyes looking. We only have a week and we lose our window."

Justin shook his head, "They won't be any help," he said but Harry knew he had given up the argument.

"I'll post something on their site, some have managed to stay hidden because their parents have connections in the parliament. Others live in London and might be able to be useful."

Harry nodded, that made sense.

"Guess there isn't much to do but wait until later then, You got any food?" Pyro asked Black Box with a bored tone.

"This isn't a charity," Black Box said with an arch voice, looking at the other two young men with grin.

But Harry caught his gaze and held it.

"So what do you want for all your help?"

"I can see why Watt's likes you," Black Box said a nod, "Quid Pro Quo, it's the way of the world children. I'll be glad cipher though the good Speaker's computer, and get you in touch with some over mutants…but a little payment is only fair."

Harry nodded, he actually liked it better spelled out so clearly.

"We don't have money, the government seized it when we were arrested," Justin said sounding confused.

Harry, who had never had money, was less concerned. He had a feeling Black Box was interested in another form of currency.

"I'm willing to work on trade," Black Box said. "There is a development firm in London that has created a new microprocessor. They're not due to be released until sometime in the next year, and by then it will be next to impossible to reverse engineer the bugger. Half of my profit margin comes from duplicating technology and selling it for, ahem, more reasonable cost. Security is tight, but not nearly as tight as it would be on a Speaker of the House's office."

Black Box was looking directly at Harry as he spoke, but Harry was careful to keep his eyes averted as he looked over at a screensaver of a dancing banana.

"And seeing how that doesn't seem to trouble you, a little side mission shouldn't be a problem."

"You want us to _steal_ it?" Justin sounded a little horrified at the idea.

"Cool," Pyro mused with some excitement.

"This isn't striking back against an unjust government," X-ray said looking at the fire mutant with some doubt. "It's common thievery."

"Says the boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth," Black Box said with some scorn. "It's business."

"What's that supposed to mean," X-ray demanded.

"Oi, I can tell a tofter from a bleeding mile," Black box said, for a moment his voice lost some of the cultured quality and dipped into a street slang that Harry was unfamiliar with.

"Look, I don't intend to stoop to pilfering to-" he gestured of to the side, seeming at a loss for words.

"And that's why the Haven crashed and burned, you weren't ready for the real world. Say what you want about your 'home kids' least they're still around."

"The real world?" Justin demanded "The Real World?" Justin's face was starting to turn an alarming degree of red, and his hand had balled into fists at his side.

Harry wanted no part in it. He didn't have Justin's noble outrage, but he couldn't bring himself to hate his old friend for having it either. Harry didn't like to see himself as a thief, he still liked to think that when the scales were balanced he was still more of a good guy then a bad one. But he also couldn't begrudge Black Box his chance to make some money either.

"We'll give it some thought," Harry said suddenly, interrupting the rush of words that was likely on the tip of X-Ray's tongue.

"Do you have the name of the place? I'll see if maybe it's a fair trade." The practicality in his voice sounded odd even to Harry.

Black Box looked a little startled at the sudden switch in demeanor, and Justin looked a little betrayed as well, perhaps he has assumed Harry would be firmly on his side. Pyro, Harry noted, was unusually silent.

The room felt awkward for a moment, until Black Box moved to a desk and started fumbling with papers. He came back with some printouts marked CLASSIFIED PROPERTY OF STARFRONT TECHNOLOGY. Harry looked them over briefly and then stuck them in his pocket for closer examination later. Justin crossed his arms

"I could use some food," Pyro said, interrupting the silence.

"You're more than welcome in the Marketplace, there is bound to be a party in full swing by now."

"Party?" Pyro asked sounding interested.

"Yeah, ol' Guv will want to welcome back old and new friends in fine style."

"What is the Marketplace?" Pyro asked curiously as they crossed back to the small janitor's closet that served as Black Box's entrance into the underground world of the Rats.

"It's the biggest crosspiece between all the different tunnels," Black Box said negligently. "Most of the lifers, the people who have grown up underground…well they have their own territories, different hidey-holes that they've staked out and built over the years. These tunnels are mine. But the Market…well that's sort of open territory, a central location."

"Some people were living there," Justin said entering the conversation but still sounding quiet.

"Merchants have stalls there, and some people can't afford anything else." Black Box dismissed them as if they were nothing.

"But food, yeah?" Pyro asked.

Black Box's smile seemed brighter still as they once again entered the gloom of the tunnel, "Something like that."

* * *

Food, as it turned out, was not the main focus of a Rat Party. Alcohol on the other hand flowed freely, and cups seemed to find their way into hands easily enough. Before five minutes had passed Harry was sipping his own mug of beer…he hoped it was beer. There was something not quite right in the taste of it, like maybe it had once been a pumpkin, or perhaps some other gourd. Still is warmed him a bit, and that was a welcome thing when they were buried so deep underground.

The lights that had lit up the Marketplace so brightly when they had first found their way here earlier in the day had been nearly shut off. Harry could only imagine that maybe it was night. His own "jet lag" was playing havoc with his sense of time, and he never had gotten another watch after the second task fourth year. For all he knew it was midday and the lights had merely been turned low to allow a more festive atmosphere.

And it was festive, in a way. Some of the stalls had put up Chinese lanterns and twinkle lights, music poured out from broken radios and record players, and people moved freely in the streets, bumping into each other and greeting friends. Harry watched as several of the Haven folks met up with old friends, and Justin even found some people who had escaped the military raid and had spent the interim hiding out with the Rats. Food was a little scarce, but what there was had been put out and was being shared freely. (Or was at least very moderately priced.)

Harry, Pyro and Justin soon gathered with some of the other Haven arrivals, most of who had settled near a small pub/billiard hall. And it didn't take long for Harry's friends to lose themselves in first the alcohol, and then in a foosball match. Harry wasn't quite certain what it was about that game, but the mutants of the Haven seemed to take it fairly seriously.

Instead of watching them play, Harry settled himself at one of the crowded tables and unfolded the documents that Black Box had given him.

He had merely glanced at the first page when he had to lift them off the table quickly, a small shot glass had spilled some amber liquid and the man responsible for the mess fumbled with his sleeve to wipe it up.

"Pardoner," the man slurred softly. "Oh it is you, the young héroe"

Harry looked up to see a face he remembered, except the man had looked quite different. Back when they had been escaping from the Northern Facility, Harry had recalled an extremely agile, dark haired man. Then his hair had been slicked back, and his skin had been pallid. Now his shiny hair fell messily in front of his face, and his cheeks were rosy. Harry had a feeling that the shot glass in his hand, and the half empty bottle had more to do with his glow than any improved health.

"Ignore, Manual," a voice hissed from further down. "He's had losses."

Harry looked up to see Torch's serpentine eyes looking back at him.

"No problem," Harry said, offering the Spaniard a smile.

"You are a nice boy," Manual said with an even heavier Spanish accent. "Buen Chico." He reached a hand up and ruffled Harry's already messy hair.

"I try," Harry said, smiling before trying to get back to examining his papers.

A full shot glass plopped down in front of him.

"A drink," the Spaniard said, "To Abby, Abby…she hates when I call her Abby…Abigail, the most beautiful woman, MY MUJER HERMOSA!"

Harry shrugged, picked up the drink and tossed it to the back of his throat…and then winced, what was he drinking? Rubbing Alcohol?

"What do you suppose they've done with her?" The Spaniard moaned into his glass.

"You ssent her to Sspain before they came," Torch said softy.

"She never made it though," he said staring at the table. "Amile, Julian and Victor they were too young…I shouldn't have let them out of my sight. I thought it would be safer for them to go with their mother."

Harry borrowed the bottle and poured himself another drink as Manual pulled a photograph from his breast pocket and stroked the small face. "Amile, she is so stubborn, just like her madre. Look at the face she makes."

Harry didn't look at the picture; instead he sipped his drink letting the warmness of it take away the chill.

"I am famous, did you know that?" Manual said slinging an arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Is that so?" Harry asked, he smiled wryly, "I am too, isn't it a world."

"Have you ever seen me in the ring?"

Harry shook his head, "You box?"

"Tonto!" Manual laughed and slid Harry another shot.

Harry took it and swallowed fast while Manual patted his back.

"No, no, I was a bullfighter, a Toreador, you never saw me? I come from the great EL Chino!"

"Sso agile you could sslid between the hoovess of a bull and not be trampled," Torch said, his voice still with a same soft hiss. "Watched you here, you were brilliant."

"Yes, and they came to watch. They knew, they must have, but they didn't care. Mutant and all, and they came to watch me. ME. Because I was the best you see."

The three sat in silence for a moment.

"We shouldn't have come to England," Manual cursed, taking another drink.

Harry poured himself another drink, Torch held out his glass as well.

"But Abigail, she wanted to the children to know her home, to know their grandparents. I was foolish. They can not hate us so much, I thought. They can not hate us so very much."

"They can," Torch hissed.

Manual lowered his head, "Yes, they can."

Some music flared to life for a moment, and Manual turned to look and smiled this broken sort of smile. "And so I plotted murder today. Not of a bull, through she is animal enough…I had not thought I would do that."

"Sshe brought it on herself," Torch hissed.

Harry could almost feel heat come from the man's breath, and there was a fiery glow to his eyes.

"A man without his children, his wife, he can not be held responsible for the horrible things he will do if they are taken from him."

Harry could feel the ache, the pain in both of these men. He had chosen another path in terms of getting rid of Chand, and he believed it was the right one. He hoped it was. Maybe he was the fool, and maybe they were right. Maybe you did have to cut off the snake's head.

He licked his lips and poured another shot.

Bloody hell, he hoped he was right.

"Good evening there, son." It was a kind, warm voice and it waded though the haze of alcohol. Guv Watts met Harry's gaze, and his eyes were a startlingly sharp slate blue. How the man had come to be seated next to him, Harry didn't know. Maybe it was because Watts looked so normal amongst his people, no fancy suits or badges of leadership.

"How was your planning today? Productive?"

Harry bit his tongue, and allowed himself to smile. "Yes, good enough."

"Good, good, I don't mind letting you try a different way."

Harry nodded and turned away, he wanted nothing to do with…what had Justin called him, mob boss of the mutant mafia?

"But you're not above killing, are you lad." It wasn't a question and Guv said it with a casual tone

Harry turned back suddenly and smiled at Guv Watts, "No," he agreed.

"Not above doing whatever needs being done. So I asked myself why you chose the path you did."

Harry nodded, "I've killed enough people to wonder what good it does," Harry said, his voice dropping to a low quiet tone. He thought back to home for a moment, and wondered what good any of it had been. What had it done, it had stopped Voldemort, but had it really changed anything?

Watts said nothing to that, but the man didn't leave. There was noise from music, noise from voices and conversations, the shouts of the players who battled with foosball and billiards. It was a cyclone of life and energy, brutal and ugly but also so very alive. It was very different from Mutant High, with its veneer of safety and normalcy.

"They say you've got good eyes," Harry said suddenly. His bright green eyes seemed to glow as he looked back at Watts.

"They say so," Watts agreed, waiting.

"So what do you see when you look at me?" Harry honestly wanted to know. Was he a Monster? A Hero? A Killer? A Thief? A Savior?

"You're a survivor," Watts said.

It was exactly what Harry needed to hear. Of course it was, and a part of him hated that a manipulator like Watts could see it so clearly.

"When the world is topsy-turvy, then is the time when men like us find our way in it."

Harry knew he was right.

"I've got work to do," Harry said rising to his feet.

* * *

When the morning came, Black Box came into his store to find a hangover Harry Potter collapsed on his couch; he also found a clear plastic box on his desk, containing one state-of-the-art STARFRONT microprocessor.

* * *

AN: I don't speak Hindi or Spanish, all foreign languages used in this chapter are to help set the mood, I don't claim to be an expert on any language. Hope you Enjoy. And yes, I am still alive, although the rumors of my death have been amusing.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Headache

* * *

A headache was the least of Harry's worries, but he rather enjoyed it. It was somewhat comforting to know that it wasn't the result of a blow to head, drugging, or magical exhaustion. He felt rather _normal_, or perhaps as normal as one can feel when you're miles underground in a hidden bunker.

"Sure you don't want some of my breakfast?" Sirius offered with a grin.

Harry cringed and his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch when his gaze once again dropped to his godfather's plate, "I'll pass, thanks. It's past lunch in London anyway."

Sirius shook his head, "You do get in trouble don't you. Why didn't you just leave as soon as you dropped them at Charring Cross? It's their mission."

"I know," Harry said rubbing his forehead. "It made sense at the time."

"Face it kid, you're just too nice."

"Nice? Me?" Harry raised an eyebrow and didn't bother to mention the various crimes he'd committed before breakfast today.

"When it comes to these little heroics, you just can't sit back and let other people have all the fun. James was the same way." Sirius smiled nostalgically at the comment, and his gaze seemed to drift away for a moment.

Harry nodded, fighting the familiar smile.

"Still, these Rats sound like dodgy characters," Sirius said, taking a bite of his food with a frown.

"That's why I need you back on your feet, need someone to watch my back." Harry smiled and his tone was jocular, but his eyes couldn't pull off the emotion.

Sirius still looked very tired and pale.

His godfather caught the glance and rolled his eyes, "I'm fine."

"Jean told me about the radiation," Harry said bluntly.

"Oh, yeah, she mentioned that to me too," Sirius said absently, stroking his leg through a blanket. Harry watched the gesture, and it made him nervous although he didn't know why.

"Don't worry, Pup, it will take more than some muggle science to do me in."

"It's not just science, Sirius," Harry said with some exasperation. "You _know_ what caused this."

Sirius shook his head, "Look kid, when you're as old as me-"

"So ancient then," Harry teased.

"Watch it," Sirius joked back, taking a swing, "Well, you learn that the universe-and this sounds like muggle hokum but bear with me-well, it's all about balance, you have to give some to get some. The way I see it, I traveled between worlds in a way that not many people before me have…now that's something alright. Always knew I was destined for greatness." He offered his godson a cheeky grin.

The amusement vanished and Sirius's face grew stony, "But it's got to cost."

"You sound like Moony," Harry said tilting his head and feeling a little surprised at this more thoughtful side to Sirius.

"Yeah, yeah, he got all the credit for being the deep one."

Sirius took another bite, but pushed his tray away half full. He stared around the room for a moment before turning to look at Harry with a stern expression, "You know, I'd really like to send you to your room, ground you…maybe take away flying privileges or something."

Harry laughed, he couldn't picture Sirius acting so fatherly.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius agreed, "You're a little old for it now."

"I've been grounded enough for a lifetime," Harry said with a grin, thinking of his summers with the Dursleys and how they would lock him in his room.

"You didn't have it that bad," Sirius said rolling his eyes, "My mum used to magically lock my door so that I couldn't floo to James's house. One time I made her so mad, she even chained me to my bed post." Sirius chuckled, but it wasn't really that funny. "I'm sure there is a dirty joke in there somewhere, but well…you've met my mother."

Harry chuckled, remembering the woman's hideous portrait and wondering at what an awkward family they made.

"I know why you're doing it, Harry," Sirius said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Helping them, taking on this new mission. It's not even your world, but I know why you're doing it."

"I'm not-I didn't want to get involved in all this."

Sirius looked at him closely, "Didn't you? Let's face it, you've got the upper hand in this world. There is no denying that…You wouldn't be here unless you chose to be."

Harry turned away. It didn't do any good to lie to Sirius, Merlin, it didn't even do any good to lie to himself. His godfather always seemed to know. Harry had turned to him, trusted him with things that he had never been able to with any other adult. Sometimes Harry wished they would have had more time, he thought he'd be a better person if they had. But he'd given up that fantasy a long time ago, now he was just glad that they could be together.

"By the way, that wheelchair guy has been around, wondering about you."

Harry sighed, "I've got enough people wanting me to join their teams at the moment, he'll have to take a number."

Sirius gave a short bark of laughter, "I won't be in this bed forever, then we can form our own team."

Harry liked that idea, and he nodded, at least until the gesture made his head ache too much.

"You know if I could do this one thing, leave England a little better then when I found it…that wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

Sirius seemed thoughtful, "I'd just leave," he said bluntly. "I've done it before, there are too many problems in this universe, Harry. We can't fix them all. And this isn't some little problem."

Harry nodded, he could understand that argument. Sirius was probably right, there was probably nothing he could do here, and why bother?

Sirius laughed, "But that's not you, and I know it."

For a moment his godfather looked like someone else, someone happy and carefree, like he had been in that wedding photo all those years ago. Harry began to have some hope that with a little time, maybe Sirius would be just fine. Jean couldn't know everything after all.

"So how about we make a deal," Sirius said. "I'll take some time here, I could use a break after all that dimension hopping. I'll listen to the nice lady healer, those tight tops she wears don't hurt anything, and I'll give you up to whatever mission you've taken on this week…and we'll see how things go."

Harry nodded with a weak chuckle.

"But in return, you've got to be safe." Sirius said, living up to his name. "I mean it, pup, no crazy risks. And no more going off drinking with criminals, I'll start to think I did a bad job raising you."

Harry laughed loudly at that, "Deal," he allowed with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius said as he lied back against his pillow, "I know you'll do what you do, not to get in trouble…but just remember you've got your old godfather's piece of mind to worry about. And I reserve the right to kick your arse and drag you home kicking and screaming." Sirius yawned, and looked up to Harry. "And I just might do that pup, so keep that in mind."

Harry nodded, he sat there for a moment as he watched Sirius fall back asleep. He wished he could ask Jane how much longer it would take for Sirius to get better. But he knew he probably shouldn't try and track down any X-men right now…although he kinda thought Wolverine might fit in just fine among the Rats. He shared their propensity for rule breaking.

Harry rose to his feet and opened the curtain, stepping out he met a familiar face.

"Hello there," Harry said, meeting the intelligent eyes of Thomas Winters. The leader of The Haven still looked a little banged up as well, and his throat was still heavily bandaged.

"I guess you probably heard about the others…you shouldn't blame them really, they needed to balance the scales. You can understand that right?"

Winters's eyes looked sad but he nodded.

"And no offence, but I'd rather them not know I came around here for a bit…sorry."

Thomas Winters blinked for a moment before staring into space blankly. Harry's memory modification led Winters to believe had had spent the last 20 minutes napping, he was startled awake only for a moment when a loud pop had sounded. But when he had looked around, there was no one there.

* * *

"Uggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" Pyro moaned loudly when Harry prodded him for the third time.

Harry grinned, his friends had overindulged a little more than he had. Justin had currently locked himself in the small room that acted as a WC, and Pyro refused to move from the small cot he'd collapsed on, half dressed.

"Say what you want," Pyro said, his words muffled behind his arm, "But those Rats can throw a bash."

Harry hadn't spent much time underground but he nodded, he was actually a little fuzzy about what he has done the previous evening. He remembered something rather funny, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was.

He relaxed back against a broken sofa and grew a little nervous when it gave a squeak that sounded biological. They were called Rats for a reason right?

While his friends and cohorts gathered themselves together, Harry surveyed the place where many of the newest sewer inhabitants had spent their evening. It wasn't quite as clean and organized as the space Professor Xavier had provided at Mutant High. The area was littered with broken couches and cots. All and all, it amounted to some rather poor looking living conditions. Harry wondered how the Haven mutants were handling their new accommodations.

Harry found he missed his comfortable bed at Mutant High…otherwise he really couldn't complain. Heck, with Magic he could easily achieve such a bed here if he really wanted, so ultimately being in a sewer underground wasn't that much different than being anywhere else.

He shook his head. There is something wrong with you old boy, he thought to himself.

"I'm never doing that again," Justin said weakly as he joined Harry on the couch.

"Yeah, well, everyone has their times of overindulgence," Harry said sounding very much like Dumbledore. The old coot had caught him like this a time or two, back in those early days when he had still been trying to find his place among all the lessons and tutors and destiny.

Justin squinted at him weakly but nodded, "Guess we need to let loose some." He sighed. "What are we going to do about the plan…I mean I hate to say it but without Black Box we're a little limited with computers…I know some things but…" Justin trailed off and shrugged.

"Black Box is in," Harry stated. "We're on for tonight; I'd wager that neighborhood will empty out around eight o'clock, cleaning crews sometime after midnight. Somewhere around 2 AM should be our best bet."

"Did Black Box change his mind?" Justin said sounding confused.

Harry paused for a moment, "Not exactly." He quickly decided that what Justin didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "The way I see it, the main goal is for us to get Black Box in there safely, let him do what he has to do. During that time it's our jobs to act as lookouts, Xray you'll be the best at that, also we can provide firepower if anyone shows up."

"Firepower is a good way to say it," Pyro said, clicking his lighter and letting a fireball burn in his hand.

"Wait, I'm confused, what do you mean by 'Not Exactly', he either did or he didn't." Justin looked like he knew exactly what had happened.

"I settled the matter," Harry stated simply.

"You _mean_ you broke into that computer development place and stole what he wanted," X-ray said sounding very disapproving.

"It was what needed to be done," Harry said with smile. Once again he had some feeling that there was humor behind that story somehow…but he couldn't remember why.

"I'm not certain about this," Justin said, standing from the couch and gesturing heavily with his hands. "We left the Haven and Mutant High because they weren't doing anything, SOMETHING had to be done. That's why we did this. But this-" Justin gestured.

"What?" Pyro asked, "It's not that bad."

Justin rolled his eyes, "Yeah, so it's not that bad. THIS TIME. But don't you see that's how it all gets going, first a little then a little more. That's the steps to total complacency. You can't do the right thing the wrong way."

Harry would hazard to guess that actually you could do the right thing the wrong way, but what did he know.

"This isn't about some distant future," Pyro argued. "It's NOW, We only have a week before they're going to kill this prime minster chick."

"She's the Speaker of the House," Justin said crossly.

"Same thing isn't it," Pyro said with a grin.

Justin, oddly enough, laughed at that, he settled back on the couch, "Maybe it is better. If we find out this information, well we could save a life and keep all the people from The Haven from having to kill her…"

He stopped and looked at Harry.

"You understand though, right. This isn't the right thing to do."

Harry sighed. "Justin, I'll be honest with you mate. I've lived through enough lectures on good and evil, right and wrong…it's a diatribe that I'll never get out of my head. Sometimes you have to look for the greater good."

Harry mentally cringed as the words came out of his mouth, he didn't want to focus only on the big picture, on the 'greater good'. He'd seen Dumbledore try it, and it had resulted in some terrible things. He still bore the scars of some of those things, but better or worse, it had made him the man he was.

Justin nodded, and leaned his head against the dirty couch staring up at the dark ceiling that towered above them somewhere.

"What do you think of this Watt's fellow?" Justin asked suddenly.

"Yeah, seems charming," Pyro offered with a snooty voice.

Harry laughed, "He's the guy in charge down here, that's all we need to know. He's not the mission."

"But we don't want a guy like him in charge…I mean…you don't suppose the blonde with him was the girl Black Box was talking about…do you? I mean she looked younger than me."

Harry shrugged, he really hadn't noticed her.

"Talk about Heroin Hot, I mean maybe a little too skinny but…" Pyro smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"That's gross," Justin said, "She's probably some street kid that Watts just picked up."

"Doesn't change the fact that she's hot…though I like women with boobs, that one is as flat as an ironing board."

Harry smiled at that comment.

"See, he knows what I'm talking about," Pyro said slinging an arm around Harry's shoulder. "You've got to have something to grab onto."

Harry couldn't help that for a moment his thoughts drifted to Storm in her leather X-men suit. That ship might have sailed…but it was still nice to think about sometimes.

"Well you caused a right mess," a voice said startling Harry from his thoughts.

"Hmm?" Harry asked.

"It's been on the news all morning," Black Box said with a frown.

"What?" Harry asked, he glanced at the others. "Do you see any televisions down here?" Harry said wondering what had gotten the computer minded mutant into such a bad mood. The man had been very pleasantly surprised earlier this morning when he'd come in to find his precious computer gadget.

"I was thinking you'd be more subtle," Black Box continued pacing above him. "Thankfully they think the whole thing is a joke. Still I was thinking this was would be significantly less publicized."

"I still don't know what you're talking about."

Black Box rolled his eyes and pulled out a small rectangle shaped device, a cell phone or blackberry, perhaps. The man tapped the screen for a moment before turning the screen to face Harry.

The screen was displaying a newscast of some sort, a handsome man with a blazer and black tie was sitting behind a desk finishing up a story on a strike near Newcastle.

"And in the bizarre news this morning," the man said with a chuckle, "A computer development firm in London reported a break in, but with a very unusual suspect. Surveillance cameras captured the entire incident, -the video of which was leaked online early this morning. Take a look."

The clean looking newsroom was replaced by a grayscale office building, and a shadowy figure was seen on the screen, it opened locked doors with apparently no effort at all…but it wasn't until the figure came into the light that the new caster's genial attitude was made apparent. The face illuminated was one that present company was very familiar with.

Harry chuckled, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that."

It seemed, at least according to the surveillance cameras, that the burglar, who made no attempt to hide her face…was none other than Speaker Chand. Her well publicized face lit up the screen and she was even dressed in her standard skirt suit and well groomed hair…which looked distinctly out of place sneaking into a well locked computer company. Although sneaking might not have been the best word considering the figure had a tendency to stumble a bit, and couldn't seem to walk a straight line. Indeed, while there was no audio to confirm this, the dignified politician seemed to pause at one point and let out a belch.

Justin and Pyro looked at Harry with wide eyes.

The newscaster returned to the screen with a smile, "The theft was reported early this morning, and despite what looks to be our esteemed Speaker of the House, her whereabouts were confirmed by her staff this morning, so one less suspect for the police to question. Let's wish them luck. This is Timothy Dalton, hoping you have a pleasant day."

"That newscaster looked awfully familiar," Harry said looking away with a shrug. "What is that thing anyway, how do you get television on it when you're underground?"

Black Box seemed unsure how to handle Harry's blasé attitude and was stuck staring, rather gobsmacked, for a moment.

"Harry?" Justin said looking confused, "How exactly did you…"

"That was AWESOME!" Pyro chimed in. "Let's watch it again."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Harry said, "Of course I was rather drunk at the time." He seemed thoughtful.

"You broke into a high security developmental research lab, drunk, dressed like the Speaker of the House?"

"That's not a bad idea really…" Harry mused thoughtfully, "I mean if we can't get any dirt on Chand, maybe we could make some up. We could have her be caught with a prostitute, drunkenly riding the lions in Trafalgar square, taking a piss in the Thames."

"Prostitute?" Pyro said curiously. "So like some buff dude?" He snickered softly.

"Have to be a female prostitute, obviously." Harry stated with a raised eyebrow, "Which just makes it a better scandal."

"More plans should involve prostitutes," Pyro agreed.

"You're both as mad as hatters," X-ray added.

"It's not a bad plan actually, making up dirt might be easier than finding the real thing," Black Box said.

"Honesty is always better in the long run," Harry argued, "Then it can't be disproved later. "

"Ah, but politics is a game of posturing. If you can muddy up the front page, no one reads the retraction."

Harry nodded, "It is something to keep in mind."

Black Box seemed to be in a better mood then when he walked in, and settled into a broken armchair. He looked out of place, pressed suit and tie amongst all the dirt and grim in the tunnels, but oddly enough he didn't seem uncomfortable at all.

"More good news, the Forum we were talked about seems to be very favorable of our mission. I've already received some offers of assistance from local mutants, including one who lives in the area we're looking into as well as another whose father is a party member."

"Well… that is looking good too then." Harry himself wasn't certain how he was going to use this 'forum' (whatever that was) but he wasn't fool enough to deny possible allies.

Justin still rolled his eyes at the concept of Home Kids, as he called them, but he seemed to have decided to remain silent about his objections.

"On the bad news end, " Black Box added, "Was looking over the forum today, there are a lot more Missing Person posts. Looks like they're being picked off."

"Then they'll be more motivated to help us, I suppose," Pyro suggested.

Black Box fiddled around with the small electronic device he had and handed the thing to Harry, who held it gingerly as if it might decide to blow up in his face.

What he saw on the screen wasn't a video this time, but instead a webpage that looked like an online bulletin board. Harry had never seen anything like it before, but he was able to read the bold font that seemed to title many of the messages.

HAVE YOU SEEN DRAKE SPENCER/MACHINE

LOOKING FOR WES DAWKINS/PORTHOLE

WHEN DID OPTIC-EYE LAST POST?/ AKA CREEVY?

The last name caught Harry's eye and he frowned. Creevy? The name brought a spark of recognition to him, but he looked away and nodded.

"There are more people missing then those that were at the Northern Facility," he said.

Justine paled, "Then…where are they?"

Harry shook his head. "Maybe Chand knows, that's something else we can look into tonight."

The four men shared a glance, a lot was riding on this evening. And it was riding on the shoulders of two teenage mutants, one talented capitalist, and a war hardened wizard. Harry might have liked to add a few more assets to that list, some people he could really trust. Justin was weak when it came to battle, and Pyro was too hotheaded, Black Box was a survivalist he'd ditch them at the first sign of trouble to save his own skin. And Harry…what was his weakness? He knew he brought one to this party too…but he didn't know yet quite what it would be.

It made Harry a little sick to think that his mind drifted to Ron and Hermione. He had abandoned them without thought back on his home world, and they had grown apart in the last few years before Voldemort's defeat. Harry had been too wrapped up in private lessons and tutors to really spend much time with them.

Yet, why was it, now, he couldn't help but wish they had his back.

Harry shook his head, there was no good wishing on things that could never be. Beside's he'd accomplished things with worse odds.

"Tonight's the night," Harry said softly.

* * *

You can't see the stars at night, not in a place like London. Harry had always thought the stars at Hogwarts seemed so blindingly bright that it would be impossible not to see them up there, glowing like mad, all from billions and billions of kilometers away. But in the city, even so late at night, the sky only looked like it had a soft orange glow. No stars.

The street lights weren't a problem for Harry and his friends as they moved through the night, they had been disillusioned to blend in with their surroundings. Their bodies would slip into shadows and almost disappear.

Not that there was much need, the streets were hardly well trafficked at this time of night. A few aides leaving work late, a cleaning crew pulling away from one building, and the small pub they had visited early was just now closing up.

A city like London was never quiet or empty, but this was about as close as it would ever manage.

The door to Speaker Chand's office slipped open silently, and the couple smoking silently a little down the sidewalk didn't notice as four nearly invisible figures disappeared into the darkness inside.

"Shouldn't we, I don't know…have staked out the place, maybe?" Justin asked from the dark entryway. "How do we know she doesn't have a live-in-maid or something?"

"It's an office, not a house," Black Box stated. "No one is going to foot the bill for someone to live here. "

"And we didn't have time," Harry added.

"Shh," Pyro said, "Let's at least get what we came for before we get caught."

Harry nodded, a little surprised at Pyro's clear-headedness. He gestured toward the staircase that rose to the left. The group followed his lead and they quietly moved upward, at the top of the stairs they spotted an ornate looking door with a brass plaque.

MADAM SPEAKER CHAND

The door to the office was locked, and the lock was fairly sophisticated, for muggle design anyway. But Harry's unlocking charm cut through the complexity in a second, and the door swung open.

Harry had seen horror, he had lived through darkness and witnessed the vile underbellies of evil, he had dived into the fathoms created by demented minds…but as far as offices went, eh, Speaker Chand's was fairly normal and unassuming. Honestly Professor Umbridge's office had evoked more feelings of discontent. It was a nice normal looking office, and since it belonged to a person who had brought about a genocide perhaps that was what made it so very disturbing.

"Very tidy," Black Box said with a trace of disgust in his tone.

Harry nodded.

But their techno mutant quickly became absorbed in an innocent looking box that had a green flickering light. Harry supposed that such a device must be what they had come for, and so he settled into the dark room to do nothing while their new friend went about doing whatever it was that he did.

X-ray was scanning the walls, and Harry knew he wasn't examining the interior decorating.

The office faced out the front and had three good sized windows which allowed the glow from the street lamps to give them a little more light to see by. Another dimmer light seeped in from what appeared to be an attached bathroom. Harry supposed it was really a rather fancy looking office, and he wondered if Ten Downing was as well situated.

"Well this is rather dull," Pyro stated tiredly.

Harry couldn't help but agree, but considering all and all, he would settle for dull and he wasn't about to jinx what would hopefully be an informative mission.

"Guys…there is something here," X-ray said softly.

Harry could have hit Pyro, why had the boy said anything? He raised an eyebrow at the fire mutant who shrugged.

"What do you mean _something_?"

"It's…" X-ray trailed off, his eyes squinting as he twisted his head to get a better look at something.

"This is going to sound crazy…but I think it's a monkey of some sort."

"A _monkey_? Like a pet of some kind?" Harry looked around wondering what exactly Justin was seeing.

"I don't…I don't think it's a monkey…"

"You just said it was a monkey," Pyro said.

"Got it," Black Box said, "Her entire hardrive, thankfully she seems like an organized sort."

Harry turned to Black Box, "You got it already?"

"I told you it wouldn't take long once I was in the room," he replied with a blank expression.

"If you say so," Harry shrugged, he still had no idea how this strange mutation worked.

"Anything useful?" Pyro asked, "Tell me she used to be a man or something. Cause I could see that."

"I'll have to meditate and cipher though it, I can do that back at home."

"Is you brain like some sort of sponge for computers?" Apparently Harry wasn't the only one who didn't understand how this all worked.

"I can explain it here or later, at a place where we won't be shot on sight." Black Box smiled, again those strangely bright white teeth catching the little light in the room and looking somewhat eerie.

"Guys," X-Ray said soundly slightly unsure.

Harry turned to see Justin staring nervously at the door, or rather the upward right corner of the door with a very hesitant expression on his face.

"I think there is a really big monkey out there," he said sounding as if he doubted his own words.

"Yeah you said that, so is it a monkey or not?" Pyro said tilting his head and looking at the teenager as if he'd gone mad.

"Yeah, well no…it's crouched…on the ceiling..." Once again Justin sounded unclear.

And then the alarm went off. Although alarm might not be the right word for the noise that suddenly echoed with an ear drum penetrating precision through the room. It reminded Harry somewhat of the high pitched screech that Syren had been able to produce…except it wasn't as gentle. The noise sounded sharp and metallic and left his head aching as he covered his ears pathetically for a moment trying to get his bearings.

When he was able to look up he saw the other members of his team similarly disoriented, all of them clutching their ears and grimacing in pain as the blaring noise continued.

Harry had heard of deafening charms, but had never used one, had never been taught one. He found himself thinking back to Professor Sprouts ugly fluffy earmuffs that had so entirely blocked out any sound and with his hands clamped down over his ears he hoped his magic would be able to reproduce those effects.

The noise continued, and then blissfully all noise of any kind disappeared.

His head still hurt, worse than it had since his days of scar headaches, and Harry had lost all sense of time. How long had they been standing there? He looked to Black Box and the others and knew that they had to get out of there.

He was debating the merits of deafening his friends, with his dangerous-new-non-safe-charm-that-didn't-have-a-countercharm…when he saw the flashing lights. He dashed to the window and looked down to see three cars pull up with flashing lights, as well a fourth black car that sat ominously next to the other three.

Harry looked around, and as the flashing lights threw the room into dark shadows, he noticed that the office door was moving. Perhaps if he hadn't deafened his ears, he might have heard the thumping sound but all he could do watch with some surprise as the door buckled and shook as some force crashed against it.

It looked like Justin's monkey wanted to come in.

Harry looked around and felt very trapped, his mind flashed methods of transportation. Portkey? Apparition?

But when the door came crashing in Harry's mind went blank and instead he summoned his partners in crime and flung them into the attached bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Perhaps the alarm was less severe in here as Justin, Pyro and Black Box regained some focus and appeared to be talking, but Harry still couldn't hear them and his mind was focused on getting them as far away from this place as he could.

The door to the bathroom was banging now it would only be a matter of time…. Harry shrugged and looked at his friends in a pitying way.

They really weren't going to like this.

Apparition is not a comfortable form of travel. Even in the wizarding world that Harry had come from, some fully capable wizards didn't enjoy the process and were much more likely to use the floo, a portkey or even the Knight Bus. Indeed, with such well established (and much more comfortable) forms of travel many wizards could go their entire life and never need to use it. Hermoine had once said it was like Parallel Parking in the muggle world, Ron hadn't understood the reference; but Harry, who had often walked an extra block with his Aunt Petunia to avoid that very thing, understood quite well.

Slide-Along Apparition was noticeable more difficult and for even powerful wizards like Albus Dumbledore, taking more than two individuals was demonstrably difficult. One's ability to control the apparition grew less and less as the factors grew.

Appariting three very disoriented people, from a room that was being invaded by a very large monkey, while surround by the police-It was almost doomed to be bad from the start, but without time for a portkey there was simply no other choice.

Harry's mind was trying to think back the Rat's little hidey hole but he didn't have much time to focus, and his grip of three people was tenuous as best. He felt the magic start to disintegrate rather quickly and the pressure of apparition seemed stronger and more painful than usual. Instead of the sensation of being pressed through a small tube, it felt more he was being squeezed through a meat grinder, coming out in too many pieces to keep straight.

He did his best to hold the magic together but with a painful lurch he felt it snap, followed by the uncomfortable feeling of face planting into the pavement.

Harry stayed very still for a moment, and found himself staring at his hands as they rested on black pavement. Every bone in his body ached, and he dreaded that this is what it felt like when you splinched yourself. He had never had that issue, and, compared to others, had always been fairly good at apparition.

He didn't hear a sound, but he did slowly start to realize that a light was growing closer. He looked up just in time to see the wide fender of a lorry barreling down on top of him.

Fuck.

He didn't have time to move, so he rolled into alignment and held very still as the vehicle thundered over him.

Above him he could see the rusty undercarriage, but only for a moment, and then the dull light of a half broken street lamp was all he faced.

Harry breathed. He felt his body slowly; he was still intact. Honestly, he didn't think that worked except for in the movies.

It was time to get out of the street he decided, and he managed to force his body upright. As he staggered to his feet and began limping toward the sidewalk, he glanced around looking for any sign of Black Box, Pyro or X-ray.

They were nowhere to be seen.

Harry swallowed uncomfortably, noting that he could still see a lot of flashing lights, like the kind produced from three police cars, blinking between two side streets. He obviously hadn't managed to get them very far away, and based on his current condition, he needed to find someplace safe to hide, rest clear his head-and oh yeah, hearing would be good to have too.

Running away from a crime scene wasn't a good idea so he tried to dust himself off and stroll down the London street as if he didn't have a care in the world. But he allowed himself to lift his hands to his ears, and began to rub them while concentrating on regaining that particular sense.

It started coming back, but it sounded like a fuzzy broken radio and he cringed at the pain that it brought with it.

He'd like to find a quiet place to sit down and get this mess settled, however all that currently surrounded him were residential dwellings, newer flats mixed in with older brownstones. It was a very dead looking place at around three in the morning; all its inhabitants were asleep. Something Harry wouldn't mind doing. He thought back to his comfortable bed at Mutant High, or even the lumpy couch at Black Box's office, the slab of cement from his prison cell in Voldemort's fortress, his cramped little bed in the cupboard under the stairs.

They all sounded rather good.

But ultimately his thoughts were drawn back to his four-poster in the Gryffindor dorm room, for the first time-and only for a the briefest of moments, he really dreaded the choice he had made in coming here.

It was a very brief moment of self pity, and one he'd never claim.

It was so brutally brief because in a moment after he had it, Harry was struck in the back of head by what felt like a meaty club.

His knees hit the pavement first and the impact shook his body, maybe he might have yelled out at the pain of it; he couldn't tell since his ear still made everything sound like it was banging around in a tin can.

His vision wasn't so good anymore either and forced himself to hold onto consciousness as world around him was vibrating.

He took a breath, that hurt too.

Glancing out of the side of his vision he found the shadow of his attacker. He moved out of the way, tossing himself toward a wrought iron fence and pulling himself upright by his hands, spinning around he allowed some of his bodyweight to rest on the fence as he surveyed what had attacked him.

What indeed.

Maybe he had been expecting a billy club, or even the fist of some hulking police officer. Instead he thought-well he _thought_ he might have found X-ray's monkey.

Monkey was a bad word to use, Gorilla was only slightly better. Whatever it was, it was big, angry and looked like it had a sledgehammer for a hand. But whatever it was, it met Harry's gaze with intelligent eyes, human eyes.

It was a mutant.

But that couldn't be? What mutant would be in Chand's office, other than mutants like his friends who were trying to bring the she-bitch down?

The scenarios flashed though his mind, but Harry couldn't get them to line up in a coherent manner. He was also beginning to wonder what he had done to himself.

This would have to be a standing battle he decided very quickly. He steadied his hands before himself, watching the creature cautiously. His own way out was to overpower his opponent, and he couldn't let him get too close. A Stunning charm would be ideal, excepting that the bolt of red light that followed it would give the Gorilla chance to move out of the way.

Harry knew he couldn't risk a physical fight at this moment, he'd have to make very spell count.

The Mutant's mouth moved, his strange monkey-like-face seemed to be saying something. It was a noise, Harry knew that. But the words were too fast and seemed jumbled.

Harry reached out to try and use the one sense he had left: His Mind. True the mind wasn't usually considered a sense, but when legilimency made it possible for his mind to reach out and brush the thoughts of another, it actually did feel like another tool for sensing the world.

_Protect Chand,_ the monkey man was thinking with somewhat simpleminded clearness.

_Keep him till the others come. _

_Kill him if need be. _

Harry saw flashes of other mutants, their powers and faces flashing like a blur. He found himself fixated on a strange image of Chand, she was surrounded by a strange sort of dust that swirled around her. But threads of those thoughts disappeared and Harry was left with unanswered questions.

Why would you work for Chand? He thought, but then he must have said it aloud because the creature snarled somewhat. Or maybe that was just coincidence.

It moved it's lips again and Harry wished he could hear what it said, but he didn't dare lose his concentration.

" -strong will make a Better World" Those words broke through the chaos and Harry was left to wonder what they meant.

Things shifted, the man's muscles tensed, his eyes narrowed-

"Stupefy" Harry hissed as loudly as he could bear, throwing a bolt of red light at the monkey man who had poised to leap towards him. The magic hit him in the chest and his face flickered surprise, but only for a moment and then his eyes slid shut.

He would have dropped to the ground.

Would have, except that the light post that had been standing next to him twisted down and caught him, then coiled itself around the bulky body like an anaconda.

Harry blinked.

Yeah…that had happened.

A street lamp had come to life and decided to imprison his attacker. It left Harry wondering if he'd hit his head harder then he thought. He raised a palm to the large bump that was swelling at the back of his skull. He'd had worse he supposed.

A quiet noise broke through the fuzziness in Harry's head. It might have been a human voice, softly spoken in the night. He turned to look for the source and found a pair of nice legs clad in tight jeans and a bulky leather jacket.

"Are you one of the ones? I read about you on S.C. for U.M, been listening for sirens all night." It was young woman's voice, but with a rough edge to it.

"Black Box wrote about this?" Harry said aloud, he'd really have to have some words with that man regarding security.

"He sent me a message, since I lived close by," the leather jacket replied.

"Oh well, that would be ideal really," Harry glanced around. "I need to get off the street."

The fence he had been leaning on suddenly wrapped around his wrists and held him firmly in place.

"Just who are you?" the voice said sharply, and it was a tone that Harry thought sounded familiar.

Harry didn't really care at this point, he was tired and regardless of whether his hands were bound or not, he had the power in this situation. The girl in the leather jacket just didn't know it yet.

"Look," he said with a sigh. "My name is Harry, I've probably been splinched, my hearing is in shambles, I've got a bleeding seventy-six trombone parade doing the polka on my temples-And I'm very tired. So you can help me or not, cause frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

He was quoting old movies, he really might have a concussion.

The leather jacket chuckled.

"You're a little bit of a git, aren't you Harry."

"I've been told that a time or two," he said with a weary grin.

The tightness on his wrists disappeared, and the leather Jacket moved into the light to reveal a head of short frizzy hair, of a very boring shade of brown. It had been cut to line up with her jaw line, and somehow this made her hair stick up even more, as if it floated around her face.

Harry had known it would be her, had sensed it from the first muffled voice.

"Hello Hermione," he said softly.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoy this chapter, lost some pages at one point and that forced me rework the structure of the story, since I hate writing what I'd already written. Think I like this way better, anyway. I noted that this chapter is filled with illusions to other works-have a theory we live in a culture that is obsessed with referencing itself and thus creating subcultures of cognoscenti. See if you spot the ones I did.


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